


Dragon's Treasure (Fool's Reward)

by Tenebrosa



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Autistic Satya "Symmetra" Vaswani, Background Relationships, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Come Shot, Dad Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Deepthroating, Deus Ex Machina, Dirty Talk, Fingerfucking, First Meetings, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Kidnapping, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Phone Sex, Snowballing, Sugar Daddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 00:47:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 48,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12947682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenebrosa/pseuds/Tenebrosa
Summary: “So--what’ya say? Make a deal with me?”“Only fools deal with dragons lightly.”“Guess I’m a fool.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based around pickart's wonderful art [HERE](http://pickart-master.tumblr.com/post/167737459574/yakuzahanzo-and-street-fighterjesse-au-kind). This was supposed to be a longer fic but I wasn't sure if I could make the sugar daddy angle work for any more than this first instance. Enjoy!

This is not typically Hanzo’s responsibility. In truth, being the leader of a clan mostly relegates him to mounds of paperwork and an uncomfortable desk. Genji is typically in charge of ensuring those on their….payroll, so to speak, stay in line. But this particular _employee_ has had some suspicious paperwork fall into Hanzo’s hands and even Genji had agreed it was best he come in person.

Which is why Hanzo is here. Brushing shoulders with rowdy drunks and scantily clad ladies--and a few equally naked men that catch his eye for a split second--with Genji bouncing eagerly at his side.

“You’re certain the owner will be here tonight?” Hanzo murmurs, keeping to English in case they’re overheard.

Though with the amount of alcohol flowing in the building, Hanzo isn’t actually certain most of these people could understand their native language any better.

“A big fight like this?” Genji sips at his drink with a grin, hiding his words behind the rim. “If he’s not here, he’s a bigger fool than we thought.”

If he’s attempting to steal from the Shimada clan, he’s already a fool, Hanzo thinks smugly.

They provide the security detail for this business, something that allows them easy entrance through a back door and respectful head nods as they pass through the crowd. A guard stationed near a back door dips into a short bow when they arrive in front of it, carefully not meeting Hanzo’s eyes as he speaks.

“The owner is speaking with a fighter in the locker room. There is only one entrance and exit.”

Hanzo nods, following Genji as he winds his way through the halls that make up the back of the building. He feels out of place, dressed in a fine suit and overcoat complete with a scarf draped loosely around his neck, when Genji is dressed down like every single other patron in the building.

But he’s not staying long. So it’s not as though he needs to lower himself to dressing like a heathen merely to fit in.

They hear shouting before they even open the door and Genji scowls over his shoulder at Hanzo before soundlessly slipping inside. It’s easy to follow--even easier to tuck himself against a row of lockers next to his brother, listening in.

“--I don’t give a shit about your fucking _integrity_ , McCree! I have a lot of goddamn money riding on this fight. You fucking throw it or you don’t fight here anymore.”

“Thought the big boss wasn’t supposed to put bets on.” Hanzo can’t help but smirk at the words, drawled in honey rough tones with something utterly... _American_ hanging on the letters.

Whoever this McCree is, he’s not intimidated by the shouting man. And Hanzo can respect that.

“Shut the fuck up and do as I tell you! This bet gives me enough money to fucking buy off those goddamn Shimada spies and run this place like _I_ want it run.”

“Idiot,” Genji hisses low and Hanzo can hear the grin in his voice.

Oh, it’s so much easier when they don’t have to beat a confession out of someone. These clothes are particularly nice, after all, Hanzo would hate to bloody them. The maids always complain about having to get blood out of silk.

“I ain’t throwing the match. He beats me fair’n’square and you get your money. But I ain’t about to roll over like a dog so you can get a fat check.”

“You son-of-a--”

“I admire your honor, Mr. McCree.” The locker rooms falls utterly silent as Hanzo steps out of cover and into view. “Especially in the presence of such a... dishonorable request.”

The owner’s face goes white and he instantly starts to shake, dropping into a sloppy bow and staying bent when Genji joins Hanzo at his side. 

“Shimada-sama! I--I do not know what you might have misheard but--”

“Oh, we have _very_ good ears.” Genji pipes up from his side, a wicked grin across his features. “Shimada genes are particularly good in that aspect. I don’t think we _misheard_ anything.”

He steps forward, gripping the owner’s arm and pulling him upright, slinging a faux-friendly arm around his shoulders. Hanzo can see where his fingertips go white with how hard he’s gripping the man’s arm and hopes, a bit spitefully, that he leaves bruises.

“My brother would like to discuss some things with you. Shall we go to your office? Better there if we need paperwork... or privacy.”

Hanzo dismisses them with a short nod, watching as Genji leads him out, the guard at the door leaving behind them. The man won’t die tonight, not with how trapped they have him, and it will work in their favor to keep the business running.

Blood money is good money. Always has been; always will be. 

He turns to leave when the quiet clearing of a throat makes him turn back and finally take a good look at the man still sitting on a bench.

Well... man is perhaps an overstatement. The boy looks at least a decade younger than Hanzo’s nearly 40 years and could do with a few more solid meals and nights of sleep before he could be a man. He’s handsome, though. The scruff of his beard accents a strong jaw and his keen eyes are the kind of gorgeous brown that makes Hanzo think of American Westerns. Though that could just be the accent.

“Yes?” He arches a brow, waits as the man rises to his feet, picking idly at the wraps around his knuckles.

“I...appreciate it, Shimada-san. You steppin’ in for me. Heard you guys got some power here, just never seen it used before.”

“Then you have not looked hard enough.” He’s teasing, perhaps a bit cruelly, but the American is...interesting.

Whether it’s his personality or the culture difference, he isn’t bowing and scraping like most others do around Hanzo. And his scruffy looks and unkempt hair, usually something that makes Hanzo scowl, oddly works for him. Makes him look a bit dangerous, a bit more hungry than his already thin frame belies. 

“Guess so,” he laughs and Hanzo is momentarily thrown by the way amusement lights up his face. “Name’s Jesse McCree.”

“Shimada Hanzo,” he inclines his head, nowhere near as polite as a bow, but Jesse grins broadly like he’d bent low at the waist. 

“Any chance I can ask for another favor from ya, Shimada-san?”

“I do not give favors lightly, nor for free.” He doesn’t cross his arms, but he allows the barest hint of a smile to cross his lips. “It would be unwise to ask for a favor when you do not know what would be asked of you in return.”

“I like danger.” Jesse picks up his water bottle from the bench, tosses it back and forth between his hands. “So--what’ya say? Make a deal with me?”

“Only fools deal with dragons lightly.”

“Guess I’m a fool.” Jesse takes the warning, and agreement, in stride. “Stay and watch me fight? Ain’t a pro or nothing, otherwise I wouldn’t be here. But the other guy’s meaner than a snake, so this fight’s gonna be a doozy. Think I might just need a good luck charm like you hanging around.”

“And my payment for such actions?” Hanzo doesn’t intend to let the subject drop--though it’s play at this point.

Hanzo can only imagine how his powerful body moves in the ring and wants to see if his mind can conjure anything close to the reality. He’s out of practice with flirting, but he’s well aware when he’s being flirted _with_. It’s not something he experiences often, and it’s more tempting than it has any right to be. Hanzo is fascinated simply because Jesse is making the attempt.

“Anything you want.”

“Dangerous,” Hanzo hums, tucking his hands into his pockets and staring into Jesse’s open expression.

The man hides nothing. His hope, his excitement, his _hunger_ evident in deep brown eyes that stare fearlessly into his own.

“I will stay. Let us hope you do not disappoint.”

“And your payment?”

“Will be decided on whether or not you win. Losers are not to be rewarded.”

Jesse throws his head back on a laugh that rings through the room, echoing off the walls. 

“Guess I better go warm up then. Got a lot riding on this fight all of a sudden.” He shoots Hanzo a look that’s molten hot and wanting. “See you in the stands, Shimada-san.”

.O.

Jesse wins, but it is not an easy victory. He’s visibly exhausted by the end of it, but his eyes still search out Hanzo in the crowd. He can’t help but smile at the searching gaze, bringing his hands up to clap politely when it finally lands on him. The crowd is roaring around him, mocking the loser and cheering for Jesse’s win. 

But Hanzo knows Jesse pays them no mind. He has captured the fighter’s attention--and he does not intend to let it go lightly.

Genji shifts next to him, digs a playful elbow into his side with a sly grin.

“You’re not returning to the castle with me, then?”

“I have other business to attend to.” 

Hanzo ignores the snorted, “I bet you do.”

“Still, it’s nice to see you take an interest in someone,” Genji folds his arms behind his head, carefully not looking at Hanzo and focusing on where Jesse is being led from the ring. “That hasn’t happened in...what? Ever?”

“I’ve no time for frivolities.”

“Except in this case.”

Hanzo doesn’t respond, is unsure of how he even would were he to try. Jesse is a fascination, but not one he’s sure will last. And Genji is a dog with a bone when it comes to any sort of gossip he can tease with. Better to act as though it is nothing until it becomes _something_. 

“Have him led to the car. I’ll be waiting out back.”

Pushing through the crowd is more difficult than Hanzo originally thought. The patrons are now utterly sloshed and more rowdy off the high of watching quality entertainment. He’s glad for the warm silence of his car and the quiet company of his driver once he folds himself into the backseat. 

It’s the work of a moment to reserve a table at a nearby restaurant, one he frequents when he allows himself a break from work. It’s not, perhaps, the most elegant place in town. Tonight has been a rather interesting night, and Hanzo is craving comfort food rather than the excess of foreign delights like lobster and lamb. He knows the owners, and the quiet atmosphere has relaxed him even on his most stressful of days.

Jesse would likely need such a place after such an adrenaline fueled battle. 

The door opens, allowing in a sudden burst of cold air before Jesse all but collapses into the seat beside him. Hanzo takes a moment to observe Jesse's slumped shoulders and the way he rubs idly at his wrist like he’s hurting.

He’s got plenty of doctors on payroll. He’s half tempted to make a call, have one of them check Jesse over. But he stops the thought nearly before he’s finishing having it. Jesse is a grown man; if he needed medical assistance, surely he would ask for it.

“Are you alright?”

“Tired,” Jesse doesn’t try to deflect or lie, letting his head drop back onto the seat to stare at the ceiling. “Wasn’t lyin’ when I said it’d be a hard fight. Bastard made me work for it.”

Unbidden, Hanzo’s mouth decides to ask, “Where do you sleep at night?”

Jesse looks chagrined, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck like he’s massaging sore muscles. 

“I got a room at a hotel nearby. Ain’t the best lookin’ place, but I don’t have a steady enough paycheck to rent an apartment or anything like that. Still, it’s a bed and it’s got a door that locks. Good enough for me.”

The conversation sparks something in Hanzo. Perhaps because it seems Jesse will shatter if he gets one more thing to support on his shoulders. Perhaps because Jesse seems in desperate need of a good meal. Perhaps because the thought of him sleeping in some half-rotten hotel room makes Hanzo's teeth grit together in irritation. Whatever the reason, it ignites a burning need to take care of this man. 

“Come home with me tonight.”

Jesse immediately flinches, a flush coloring his cheeks.

“I ain’t sure--I mean, I’m young and all, but with how exhausted I am...ain’t too certain I’ll be good for much but laying there. I ain’t sayin’ no but--”

“You misunderstand.” Hanzo stops his rambling with an uplifted hand as the car starts to navigate its way through the busy streets. “I am not asking you to warm my bed for the night. I merely wish for you to get a good night’s rest after your exertion during the fight.”

Jesse goes quiet, a muscle in his jaw working as he grinds his teeth together. His words are quiet, when they finally come, and aimed directly at where his hands are clenched in his lap.

“I ain’t some charity case, y’know?”

“No,” Hanzo says firmly, reaching over to smooth back a damp piece of hair at Jesse’s temple. “And that is not my intention. You are...intriguing. And as of tonight, you are currently in the position of owing me something.”

He catches the tip of his finger under Jesse’s chin, grinning slightly at the way Jesse's mouth falls open when Hanzo exerts enough pressure that the fighter has no choice but to meet his gaze. 

“I like to take care of my investments, Mr. McCree. One never knows when they might be called upon. Best, I find, to keep them enamored of me.”

“Oh, darlin’.” Jesse’s voice is low, though Hanzo cannot tell if it’s in arousal or deference to the driver up front. “You ain’t gotta worry about that in the _slightest_.”

.O.

“A ramen shop?”

“If you have protests…”

“Naw, not at all.” Jesse stretches in his seat, craning to look out the window and up at the lit sign. “Just never been here before. Always just went to Rikimaru.”

Hanzo knows the very place Jesse speaks of. It’s not far outside the main gates of the castle, a place he and Genji often frequented the moment they were old enough to leave the house without their father and his guards by their side. He burns at the thought this man could have been so close without his knowledge, but pushes it down with a tight smile.

“The food is largely the same. Though perhaps not as cheaply made.”

“Always tasted just fine to me,” Jesse mutters, rearing back when the driver rounds the car to pull his door open for him. “Ah, thank ya kindly.”

Hanzo waits for him to climb out before joining him, maneuvering around Jesse’s bag lying on the floor of the car. Its tattered state nags at him, and he’s half tempted to tell his driver to buy the man a new one while they eat. 

He puts a stop to the thought with firm decisiveness. Jesse is a grown man. He does not need Hanzo to dote on him. 

No matter how much he may want to.

“We have a table waiting for us,” he murmurs, taking Jesse’s elbow in a light grip and guiding him inside, watching as the man’s face instantly relaxes on a deep inhale through his nose.

“Oh, man. If I wasn’t starvin’ before, I am now.”

Hanzo allows just the smallest smile to cross his face as the hostess snaps to attention and hurries to lead them to their table. It's the table he prefers--set in the back, close to an exit, and partitioned off from the rest of the restaurant with shoji divider. It’s almost...romantic, with the low light of candles and the separation from the low buzz of the restaurant proper. Something Jesse clearly doesn't miss as he takes his seat across from Hanzo, a flush once more on his cheeks. 

“If’n you’re not careful, a man might think you’re tryin’ to woo him, Shimada-san.”

“Hanzo, if you please.” He pointedly doesn’t respond to the accusation, eyes flickering over the menu and forcing down the amusement as Jesse lights up at his permission.

“Well, my Japanese isn’t good enough to read the menu, so I’m at your mercy tonight, Hanzo.” He rolls the name around like he’s tasting it on his tongue, and Hanzo shudders, fingers clamping down just a bit tighter on the menu. 

“Very well. Do you have any allergies?”

“Cats,” Jesse props his chin on his fist. “Other’n that? I can put whatever I want in my mouth.”

“Wonderful,” Hanzo says drily, placing the menu down and leveling an unimpressed stare at Jesse’s broad grin.

The waitress comes up, demurely waiting a small ways away, and Hanzo taps a finger against the menu with a hum. It’s on the tip of his tongue to order the entirety of the meal he typically has. It’s light enough to be eaten even on days when he’s exhausted but heavy enough that he nearly always feels relaxed after consuming it. 

But Jesse does not look as though he could last through the separate courses, nor pay attention enough to be instructed on how to eat them. 

In the end, he orders just the ramen dish that typically makes up the grand finale and a bottle of sake for the table. Jesse perks up at the latter, leaning against the table once the waitress bows and strides away with purpose. 

“Sake? That’s a drink right? Had it before, I think.”

“I do not mean for you to imbibe too much.” Hanzo thinks of the power the delicate wine holds and how Jesse’s shoulders slump with exhaustion even as he tries to stay focused. “But a treat for the victor is appropriate tonight.”

“That was a hell of a match,” Jesse rubs a palm against his beard, scratching at it thoughtfully with a frown. “Though I’m sure the boss is mighty pissed at me. Ain’t sure I’ll have a place in the ring after tonight.”

“Do not worry,” Hanzo waves away his words with an admittedly imperious motion. “I will ensure you receive no repercussions for your actions.”

“Well, that’s all well and good, but just because he don’t fire me, won’t mean I won’t be sittin’ there _wishin’_ he did.” 

Hanzo tips his head in question, leaning back slightly as the sake and glasses of water are placed on the table between them. Jesse looks haunted for a moment. His eyes are dark, shadowed, and he refuses to meet Hanzo’s gaze as he idly pushes his chopsticks around. 

“Been in places before where I didn’t listen to the big boss. Found myself up against guys I didn’t have a chance in hell of beating. Made me wish I’d never opened my big mouth, y’know?” He leans back, rubs one hand across his ribs like he’s remembering a phantom pain. “Couple of broken bones later, that’s why I came here. Figured even if word got around where I used to live, maybe a sea and a half would make for a new start.”

“I assure you,” Hanzo’s voice is low, dangerous, anger in every syllable and it makes Jesse go wide eyed across from him. “You will not be put in any more danger than your profession dictates you must. And if I find out that the matches are being deliberately set in ways that are unfair to you, the owner will wish he had made a very different decision.”

Jesse is quiet for a long while. Silent as Hanzo serves them both a cup of sake, silent during the toast, and only speaks once he’s swallowed it down-- swiping his tongue over his lips and staring at the cup like it will give him strength.

“Why are you doing this for me?”

“You fascinate me,” Hanzo replies, linking his fingers to prop his chin on them, unwavering in his stare even as Jesse flinches. “And not in ways most people typically do. I am not some sort of savior come to rescue animals in time of great peril. But what interests me, what very _little_ interests me….I like to nurture it as best I can.”

Jesse doesn't seem satisfied by his answer, but he’s interrupted from responding by the arrival of their food. The ramen smells amazing as usual, and Hanzo murmurs his thanks even as his hand plucks his chopsticks from the table. He’s _ravenous_ suddenly and going by the slack jaw on Jesse, he is not alone in the feeling. 

They eat in silence, broken only by the occasional ‘slorp’ from Jesse’s side of the table that has Hanzo hiding his grin with a hand. There is a right way and a wrong way to slurp noodles and Jesse’s way is somehow both and neither of those at the same time. Regardless, he devours half the bowl in record time and only then leans back with a groan, hand patting his belly.

“Damn, Hanzo, a man could get used to this. What’d they put in this anyhow?”

“A myriad of ingredients, but none so different from what Rikimaru uses.” Hanzo can appreciate a man who knows good food when he tastes it. “It is more in the preparation. But I am glad it is to your liking.”

He becomes aware then, of the way Jesse is staring across the table at him. His eyes are heavy, low-lidded and relaxed, and he watches carefully as Hanzo swipes a tongue across his lips to chase away any drops of broth. 

“Do I have something on my face, Mister McCree?” Hanzo teases.

“Naw,” Jesse breathes, “you’re perfect, darlin’.”

Hanzo is shocked when his cheeks warm suddenly. He is not a man who flushes easily--but he is also not a man used to receiving such open compliments. Usually they come from someone wanting something from him, to gain favor. Jesse’s face holds no subterfuge, just tired reverence, and Hanzo scoffs to clear the romantic thoughts from his mind.

He barely knows this man. What in the world is happening to him that he’s thinking such things so quickly?

“Might have to come back here some time, if the food’s always this good.” Jesse scoops a bit of pork from his bowl, groaning aloud as he chews. “Oh _fuck_ , I’m definitely coming back.”

“It’s certainly not the cheapest food, but it is well worth the price.”

“How much is this?” Jesse peers down at his bowl in thought and Hanzo, so used to discussing such things with Genji, answers without thinking. 

“Nearly 9000 yen. Roughly the equivalent of...80 American dollars? Typically this is more of a buffet than a simple bowl of ramen, but I thought perhaps you would be a bit tired for such a feast.”

Hanzo’s so preoccupied with filling his cup he misses the way Jesse’s mouth falls open in shock. It’s only when his chopsticks hit the table that he glances up, blinking in surprise at the gobsmacked expression.

“80 fucking--” Jesse lowers his voice into a harsh whisper, leaning closer. “80 dollars?! For a bowl of ramen?”

“It’s made with specialized and imported ingredients.” Hanzo shrugs, reaching to fill Jesse’s sake cup and place it down, smiling wryly when the man snatches it up and upends it down his throat in one movement. “If you wish to return, it would be my honor to bring you once more. Foreigners should experience the best Hanamura has to offer, I should think.”

“I can’t let you pay for shit like this.” Jesse still looks ashen, fingers trembling just a bit as he chases the sake with a gulp of water. “But I--hell, it’s not like I can pay the bill for my damn self.”

“Jesse.” Hanzo gathers another bunch of noodles between his sticks, staring the man down over the steam rising from the bowl. “This is merely...ah, what is the American phrase? Pocket change. I think nothing of purchasing this meal--or any future meals. The Shimada Clan is an empire to rival that of any other country. I assure you, this is not even the most expensive purchase I have made _today_.”

“Silver spoon sonuvabitch.”

Hanzo smiles, tucking the noodles between his lips with an arch of his brow. He’s far too old to be ashamed of what his family has given him in life, and since it affords him the ability to do the sorts of things he’s doing at this very moment, he’s not going to apologize for it. Jesse, to his credit, doesn’t seem to hold it against him. Though he does eat slower, like he’s now viewing his food in a new light and eager to savor every bite.

He’d stop him, if he had any thought to. But Jesse looks...pleased, in a very soft sort of way. He’s still lazy-lidded, eating with care, and his posture is slumped in the seat. Hanzo can see the way sleep pulls at him, tempting him into the darkness, and motions discreetly to the waitress for the check.

As enjoyable as dinner is and despite how much Hanzo might want to drag this out, Jesse needs rest more than he needs anything else. 

Besides, if Jesse continues to be as interesting as he is, this is certainly not that last dinner they’ll share.

.O.

When Hanzo wakes the next morning, it’s to the sound of his door sliding open. His hand finds the knife under his pillow before he can think, clenches tight around the handle even as he keeps his breathing slow and steady. 

It’s unlikely someone got past all the guards _and_ Genji to get to him. But it does not hurt to be unprepared.

Luckily for him--and the intruder--Hanzo quickly scents the lingering air of tobacco and releases his grip on the blade. He hides his smile by turning his head against his pillow, taking care to make the motion that of someone already unconscious. 

He’d had a feeling, after the way Jesse had watched him closely at dinner last night and looked almost forlorn as Hanzo had showed him his room, this might happen. Sure enough, his blanket lifts and the scent grows stronger as a muscled body slides in close. Jesse’s hand is calloused when it slides slow across his lower back, almost tickling, and Hanzo is grateful he thought to sleep in merely a pair of briefs.

One can never be too hopeful, as it turns out.

“Hanzo? You awake?”

He should not be, nor should Jesse. The sun's light is barely streaming through the small window, the birds only just starting to chime the rise of the day.

“Can I assist you in some way?” His voice is dry, perhaps a bit harsh from sleep still, but it makes Jesse laugh as he huddles in ever closer.

“Well, was thinking maybe I’d _assist_ you. Still got a debt to pay, after all.”

“This isn’t payment,” Hanzo hides his smug look at Jesse’s confused noise. “Anything you do will be done of your own volition. I am not so foolish as to cash in a favor for mere sexual satisfaction.”

“Mean sonuvabitch.” Jesse grumbles even as his fingers trace nonsense patterns into the sensitive skin on Hanzo’s lower back. 

“Are you going to go back to your own room?”

“You know damn good and well I won’t.”

Hanzo is eased onto his back, gently but insistently, and he lets his legs splay open more readily than he likely should. Jesse comes down atop him in a wave of bared skin, lips already searching out the pulse under his jaw, hands everywhere all at once. 

“Eager,” Hanzo huffs, though his own hands raise to grab at shoulders roped with muscle.

“Can ya blame a man? Yer a feast fit for a man’s last wish.”

Hanzo smiles, one not hidden by the pillow this time, at the way Jesse’s drawl has thickened. The words are syrup slow in the early morning light, fitting and yet somehow harsh. Like Jesse’s control is withering as he speaks, and his voice is the only indication.

“Do you intend to devour me, Mister McCree?”

“Oh, sweetheart--” The scrape of teeth against his vulnerable throat makes something in Hanzo’s stomach flop. “You got no goddamn idea.”

He slinks away then, under the covers, powerful body sliding down until Hanzo jumps at the feeling of thumbs smoothing along his hipbones. Jesse presses a smile into his stomach, and Hanzo smacks at the lump under the blankets with a scowl.

“Do not tease me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Jesse’s voice drifts up, muffled under the thick blanket. 

True to his word, careful hands slip under the waistband of his briefs, tugging insistently until Jesse works them down around his thighs. Hanzo holds his breath when no further touches come, shoving away thoughts of inadequacy and insecurity. If Jesse does not like what he has found, he may leave. Hanzo has never had any complaints from his, admittedly few, former partners. He refuses to grow self-conscious now.

“Sweet lord,” Jesse’s voice is barely more than a whisper, almost inaudible. “You’re just perfect all ‘round, ain’t’cha?”

Hanzo’s response is lost in his thought when calloused fingers wrap around his cock. He opens his mouth -- not to speak, but to attempt to _breathe_ \-- when a slick heat follows, dragging up his length with careful motions.

Like Jesse is trying to map out his cock with his tongue alone.

“J-Jesse--”

“Relax.” Jesse’s lips curl around the already leaking tip as he speaks. “Relax for me, sugar. I’ll do you right.”

“You’re not _doing_ anything.” Hanzo grits out.

There’s a muffled laugh, and then Jesse neatly wraps his mouth around the head, sucking insistently, his hand pumping what he doesn’t manage to fit past his lips. The sudden pleasure makes Hanzo shout, hands raising to clap over his mouth as his hips buck upwards. He hears Jesse gag, moves to apologize, when Jesse presses forward and swallows down more.

He can _feel_ Jesse choke, every now and again, the muscles of his throat gripping almost too-tight. There’s drool slipping out the sides of his mouth, pooling on Hanzo’s hips, sliding down in a line of heat. It’s messy and sloppy and _shameful._

Hanzo has never loved anything more.

He scrambles for the blanket, tosses it back, relishes the sudden cool air against his sweating skin. Jesse glances up from between his legs, mouth split wide, and has the audacity to _wink_ at him even as his throat constricts once more. Hanzo scrambles at his hair, grips the strands between his hands, and _pulls._ Jesse scowls at him even as he’s unceremoniously yanked off, and his voice is an absolute wreck when he speaks.

“What’d ya do that for?”

“You are-- That was--”

Jesse grins at his inability to speak, to form a coherent _thought_ , let alone sentence. His hand pumps up and down Hanzo’s cock, further scrambling his brain, the spit left there easing the slide. 

“C’mon, darlin’, I been a good boy. Jus’ let me choke on it for a bit, yeah?”

The words shock him, so much that he loses his grip on Jesse’s hair. Without the pressure to hold him back, Jesse dives eagerly back into his task. Hanzo winds up scratching at his shoulders, no doubt leaving marks in the skin, legs kicking uselessly. 

“J-Jesse!”

He’s going to come. Never so fast or so sudden, but it’s upon him before he can think. Jesse’s throat moves around the plush head, like it’s trying to milk the orgasm out of him, and Hanzo barely has the foresight to clap his hands over his mouth once more to silence his scream. He writhes when Jesse doesn’t pull away, swallowing him with wet sounds, mouth sealed like he’s refusing to waste a single drop.

It’s only when he becomes over sensitive, whining at the still coaxing pulls of Jesse’s throat, that Hanzo all but shoves him away. 

Jesse sits back on his heels between Hanzo’s limp legs, swiping a thumb over the corner of his mouth with a self-satisfied grin. His hair is a mess, eyes bright with tears and pride, and his face is flushed red with exertion. Between his thighs, barely hidden under the soft material of his sleep pants, his cock is thick, stretching the material obscenely.

It all falls second to Hanzo’s attention when he speaks, however.

“Sorry I didn’t leave some in my mouth. Show it to you. Just tasted too damn good to not swallow the lot.”

“Fool,” Hanzo hisses, surging up and yanking Jesse into a kiss.

He ignores the way the words leave a banked fire in his chest, his exhausted cock tempted to twitch. The image alone, of Jesse opening his mouth to show off his prize, Hanzo’s come thick and white against the pink of his tongue, makes him groan into the kiss.

“How have you bewitched me so?” 

“Sure as hell don’t know,” Jesse pants between kisses, whining like a dog when Hanzo’s palm finds the hard line of his cock. “But I ain’t sorry for it.”

“I want to see you come.”

“Ain’t gonna be long,” Jesse blows out a frustrated breath. “You got me worked up something fierce, darlin’.”

Hanzo has a wicked thought then, one that makes him grin into the kiss. He pulls away, hiding his amusement as Jesse follows like a dog on a leash, and eases himself onto his back once more. Jesse pouts down at him, swollen lips curled into a frown that makes him look even younger. 

“Wha--”

“You’ve exhausted me.” Hanzo has practice at schooling his face into a neutral expression and gratefully thanks his training as he waves a hand at Jesse. “I’m far too tired to assist. But...to watch…”

Jesse grins, not at all offput by the teasing, and explodes into action. He nearly upsets himself struggling to yank his pants down, leaving them trapped around his thighs, the fabric stretching to near bursting. He scrambles forward, knees landing on either side of Hanzo’s ribs. His hand finds his cock, working it over with familiar motions, and Hanzo swallows thickly at the sight.

“If you wanted a show, sweetheart, all you had to do was ask.”

And a show he gets. Hanzo has the perfect vantage point to watch Jesse work himself into a frenzy. Sees the way his stomach tightens and his hips jump, thrusting into the grip of his hand. Sees the way his teeth grit, muscles in his jaw jumping. 

Most of all, he sees the way Jesse’s gaze moves over him. It’s _hungry_ , like a man denied a meal for too long, and never stays in one place for too long. His mouth, his throat, his chest -- all of it is leered at. Hanzo feels coveted and desired, not self-conscious in the slightest, and he even flexes a bit for Jesse's appreciation.

He’s a prideful one. Hanzo has never denied that. 

“Shit, sugar,” Jesse curses and then Hanzo is forced the slam his eyes shut.

He should have known Jesse would aim for his face. The wet spurts hit his cheeks, his beard, land in the hollow of his throat. He’d open his eyes to glare if he wasn’t so busy petting Jesse’s hips as the man shudders apart on top of him. It won’t take long to clean but…

“Impudent.”

“That’s me.” Jesse’s voice is still a mess, but it’s lazy now, satisfied. “Give me a tic to figure out how my legs work and I’ll get you cleaned off.”

Hanzo waits, a bit impatiently, but Jesse follows through on his word. He disappears into the ensuite, comes back with the pad of feet on the hardwood, and gently strokes a wet rag over Hanzo’s features. It’s only when the rag draws away completely that Hanzo opens his eyes, only to see Jesse grinning down at him once more.

“You’re the hottest goddamn thing this side of the Mason-Dixon, you know that?”

“I do not understand half of that sentence,” Hanzo informs him curtly, only to be met with Jesse’s raucous laughter as he bullies his way under the covers once more. 

“Gimme some time, honey. I’ll expand your vocab.”

“Amongst other things, I’m sure.”

Jesse’s laugh, this time, is muffled into the curve of Hanzo’s throat. 

He has many things to do today. He hardly has the time to laze about in bed, no matter how thrilling the company there. Hanzo has never taken a day to himself since his father handed control of the Clan. 

But as Jesse drapes a heavy arm across his waist and throws a leg over to pin his thighs down, Hanzo is...tempted. 

“Y’know, you never did ask me for something in return. Guess I still owe you, huh?”

“Stay.”

“Hm?” Jesse’s head lifts, just enough that Hanzo can turn and catch the confused look in his eyes. “What’s that?”

“My request. Stay. I have much to do today--all days.” Hanzo amends with a scowl. “It would be...pleasant. To have something to come home to at the end of it all.”

“Well, since I still ain’t sure if I even got a job anymore...sure don’t see why I wouldn’t.”

Jesses slumps down against him again, pressing idle little kisses to whatever skin of Hanzo’s he can reach in his position. He can feel the smile on the man’s lips as he does so.

He keeps his mouth shut for the time being. No one need know he is asking Jesse to stay for much longer than just tonight. Hanzo can’t help the smile that creeps across his own face, his hand cupping Jesse’s lower back to keep him in close.

He had warned Jesse the dangers of making deals with dragons. Petulant, greedy things that they are. That _he_ is. Hanzo is much like his namesake, hoarding things he enjoys, things that bring him pleasure. 

Somehow, though, he thinks Jesse won’t mind being kept. If the way he whines and tries to cling tighter when Hanzo attempts to get ready for the day ahead is any indication….

He might just enjoy it as much as Hanzo will.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first fic was so well received I decided to write a bit more--Thank you all so much for your kind words and support!

There are times Hanzo enjoys having a younger sibling. Someone to share the good parts of his life as well as the bad. Someone who knows what his life has been like without explanation--who accepts him as he is and for _what_ he is without fanfare or argument. 

“So, I met your boy this morning.”

And then, there are times when it’s a less than pleasant experience.

“He is a fully grown man. Hardly a boy.”

Hanzo ignores Genji as best he can when the other man flops down into a chair in front of his desk, sorting another few files to keep up the illusion of being too busy to chat. Yet he can still see the impish grin on his brother’s face, far too knowledgeable and teasing for his liking. 

“He could do with a few more meals before he becomes a man, I think.”

“This from you?” Hanzo arches a brow at Genji perpetually skinny form, hiding his amusement at the immediate pout. 

“There's a difference between genetically thin and deprivation thin.” Genji sucks at his teeth, “and he’s definitely the latter. Brother, why don’t you take better care of your pets?”

“He is not a pet.” 

Not...yet, anyhow. Jesse’s presence at his home is something of interest but not something Hanzo is used to yet. He’s still shocked to be embraced when he comes home for the day, barely toeing off his shoes before he’s pulled into welcoming kisses and hugs. Jesse’s well of affection seems bottomless, always ready to touch and caress Hanzo when and where he seems to need it most.

Unfortunately, since that first night, a week ago, when he’d asked the man stay, they haven’t had time for more than those freely-given kisses and hugs. 

Hanzo has never before despised the amount of monotonous paperwork his job requires but he finds himself glaring down at yet another order for weapons as Genji lingers in his peripheral.

“He called himself a housewife, you know that?”

Hanzo’s head snaps up, all paperwork forgotten in the face of Genji’s “got’cha” grin. His brother waves a hand in the air, circling, one foot hooked over the arm of his chair and swinging in a taunting metronome. 

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your cowboy? Sorry, your cow _man_? He was joking, of course, at least I think he was. I suggested a maid uniform to complete the look.” Genji offers him another wicked grin, eyes slitted into aggressive amusement like a cat who’s cornered its prey. “He flushes in the most adorable ways, did you know?”

The silence that falls next is dangerous. Hanzo’s temper burns white hot in his chest, something nasty with far too many teeth lingering in the back of his mind. He places the papers carefully on the desk, folding his hands on top of them, and gives Genji the attention he’s been so obviously seeking.

Going by the panicked look that flashes across his younger brother’s face, it’s not turning out to be as enjoyable as he thought it might be.

“I do _not_ ,” Hanzo picks his words carefully, restraint and tension in every syllable, “share very well. I never have. And I do not intend to start.”

Genji fidgets, a look of surprise arching his brows. 

“Hanzo, I don’t--you think that I--” He shakes his head firmly. “No. I’m not interested in cowboys. Brother, do not worry about that.”

“Good.”

He’s surprised at his own viciousness, at the spark of indignant fury still burning inside him at the thought of someone taking Jesse from him. They’ve only known each other for a short time--a very short time.

But he is possessive. Dragons always are. 

“I’m taking off early today.”

Hanzo pointedly ignores Genji’s slack jaw and starts to gather up his things. He never brings much to the office, aware he could be pulled away at any moment, and so it’s only a few minutes later that he’s shrugging on his coat. Genji is still milling about, up out of the chair but resting his ass against Hanzo’s desk, hands tucked in his pockets.

And he’s smiling. In a way that has never boded well for Hanzo.

“Did you need something?” Hanzo bites out.

Genji’s smile softens, just a bit, in the corners of his eyes and his mouth.

“Nothing at all. Go home, brother. Enjoy your early day.”

Hanzo keeps thinking about that smile until he’s tucked safely into his car and on the way home. He almost wants to keep radio silent, in some childish attempt to prove Genji wrong. But he relents--or breaks, depending on the point of view--fishing his phone out and thumbing open his messages to Jesse.

_I find myself having free time. Would I be interrupting anything to ask you to meet me at the house?_

Hanzo never wants to assume Jesse just stays at home most days. He still does have a life, friends of some sort going by the way his phone chimes when they’re together. Despite him not returning to the ring at his previous place of employment, Hanzo knows he’s been out looking for a job.

He doesn’t need to. Hanzo could sustain the both of them with anything they could ever want for many lifetimes over. 

**Nope! I’m here already, just sitting under this hot table y’all got! And eating something one of the girls shoved at me?**

There’s a blip of someone typing and then Hanzo snorts at the picture Jesse sent along with the message. It amuses him Jesse has been in Hanamura as long as he says and yet still doesn’t know what mochi is called. But the maids must be adore him to make them, Hanzo thinks with a sense of satisfaction.

_Mochi. Try not to over-indulge, you’ll get a toothache._

**Try and stop me!**

The next picture makes Hanzo flush, tugging at his collar and resisting the urge to loosen his tie. He knows Jesse meant for the picture to be in jest, a tease at his harping, but it is...alluring. Jesse is centered in frame, eyes sparkling as he holds his mouth open to show the mochi sitting there. It’s half melted from the heat of his mouth--a heat Hanzo remembers well--and the sight of the cream running in rivulets over his tongue calls to mind their first night together. 

Would Jesse still look as pleased, as cheerful, if it were Hanzo’s come pooling in his mouth instead of the sweet treat?

He doesn’t reply--there’s no need given how close he is to home. And he’s not certain what he would say anyhow. This sort of teasing and flirting is still unfamiliar territory, more Jesse’s specialty than Hanzo’s. He enjoys it, of course, but it sets him on uneven footing.

Jesse has a habit of doing that in all aspects, he’s found. 

He’s barely inside the door, nudging his shoes into line with Jesse’s old boots--he could really use a new pair. Surely it wouldn’t be hard to find them with the resources he has?--when footsteps head his way. Hanzo sets his things down, feels a bit foolish as he opens his arms to nothing, but is satisfied moments later by Jesse’s blinding grin.

“Hey, darlin’, welcome home!” He approaches eagerly, all but throwing himself into Hanzo’s arms, linking his fingers together at his nape. “How was work?”

The domesticity of the scene, and the words, isn’t lost on Hanzo. He pulls Jesse in close, fighting back the feelings of nostalgia--how many times had he watched his mother greet his father in the same way? 

“Not nearly as pleasurable as being home is.”

“Well now,” Jesse presses in impossibly closer, slotting a leg between Hanzo’s thighs. “If it’s pleasure you’re lookin’ for, you came to the right man.”

“Did I now?” Hanzo murmurs, nosing in under the curve of Jesse’s jaw, feeling the scruff tickle at his nose. “And how do you intend to provide such pleasure?”

Jesse takes a step back, glances this way and that down the halls that lead to the entranceway, before he’s stepping forward once more. He all but shoves Hanzo against the front door, fists clenched in the material of the coat he has yet to shrug off. The crouch Jesse dips into has Hanzo’s heart-rate racing already, thumping in double time when the man grins up at him, fingers playing at his belt.

“How about I show you?”

“Here?” 

Hanzo is a bit more scandalized than his flat tone would suggest. Anyone could stumble upon them. A maid attempting to do her cleaning rounds, someone searching for him to impart a message--Gods knew Genji would just throw his body weight against the front door if he wanted to get inside bad enough.

But it’s so tempting, especially when Jesse doesn’t answer, just winks and easily undoes his belt and button with smooth movements. Hanzo grips the door handle with one hand, the other digging nails into the wood, and simply...watches.

Jesse looks like he’s found the holy grail as he pulls down Hanzo’s pants and briefs, barely exposing his cock to the cool air before there’s a hot hand and an even hotter mouth wrapped around him. He lets his head fall back against the door, groaning softly at the feel of Jesse’s tongue tracing patterns on the underside of the shaft. He wastes no time sucking Hanzo down until the plush head is nudging the back of his throat.

And then those forsaken _noises_ start. Small wet sounds, accompanying a sudden tight clench of muscles, sloppy with spit already and more alluring than anything Hanzo’s ever heard. His hand, the one not holding onto the door for support, drops to tangle in Jesse’s messy hair. The touch earns him a small noise, something close to a whine as Jesse huddles in closer, one hand braced on Hanzo’s hip for balance. 

“So good for me.”

_That_ is a whine, a hopeful sound of happiness as Jesse all but grinds his nose into the carefully trimmed thatch of hair at the base of Hanzo’s cock. It drags a gasp from Hanzo’s throat, unrestrained and untethered, fingers gripping cruelly at Jesse’s hair. Jesse is so eager, always eager, to please. To be used.

Hanzo could abuse this power if he wanted. But all he wants to do is enshrine it, wrap it in softness and silk like the gift it is. 

“Do you like it?” He feels a bit silly asking but Jesse nods furiously, eyes bright despite the layer of wetness across them as he chokes once more. 

“Show me.”

It’s the snap of a leash Hanzo didn’t know he was holding. If he thought Jesse was insistent before, it’s nothing compared to the reaction the words elicit. He goes _wild_ , swallowing around Hanzo’s cock until his face is red and flushed, tears dripping down his cheeks. His hand turns into a claw on Hanzo’s hip, nails digging and catching on the fine silk of his shirt. The grip he has on Jesse’s hair turns out to be less of a controlling hold and more of a brace as Hanzo tries not to lose himself.

Orgasm pulls tight in his stomach, rushes through his veins, and he gasps out words that have lingered in the back of his mind since that very first time Jesse swallowed him down.

“Show me. You--you said, this time… _Jesse_. Show me.”

It’s a fight like no other to keep his eyes open when he comes. Hanzo manages, just barely, blinking quickly to try and alleviate the pressure, the anticipation, as he stares down. His chest is pumping furiously, breath not coming fast enough to sate him.

Until it feels like he stops breathing completely.

Jesse is settled back on his heels, one hand still fisted in Hanzo’s shirt, the other resting demurely on his thigh. His mouth is open, tongue flexing and rolling around the liquid spread across it.

The come. On his tongue. Kept there because Hanzo asked him to. 

Ordered him to.

He falls to his knees with a harsh groan, reaching and gripping Jesse’s cheeks, yanking him forward as if the man would ever deny him. The kiss is messy, wet and sloppy with spit and come, and Hanzo practically _moans_ into it when he feels Jesse swallow.

“You are--you-- _Jesse_.” He brings their mouths together, his own better suited for kissing than talking at the moment. 

He’ll come to his senses in a moment. Realize he’s kneeling and devouring his lover’s mouth in the very exposed foyer of his home. His cock is already uncomfortable, exposed to the air that seems almost cruelly cold after the heat of Jesse’s mouth and throat. 

For now, all Hanzo can think of is the gift Jesse gave him so freely.

And what he could possibly offer him in return.

.O.

“Is there anything you need?”

“Uhhh,” Jesse’s voice is harsh, throat still recovering from earlier, deep and accented. “Another finger? Your cock?”

“Fool,” it’s not an insult, more a term of endearment as Hanzo strokes his free hand down Jesse’s spine. 

His other hand is busy, buried between Jesse’s cheeks, two fingers sunk inside a hole that grips at them like Jesse wants to keep him inside forever. He is _tight_ , tighter than even Hanzo imagined he might be, and it’s a fight every moment to keep his thoughts in line.

But Jesse is sprawled face down over his lap, arms under his head and ass pushed up high to accept whatever Hanzo will give him. And Hanzo is not a foolish enough man to turn down the opportunity to tease when it so readily presents itself.

“I mean in terms of living. New clothing? Perhaps a car? Would you like your room decorated a certain way?”

“Uh, I can’t--” Jesse curses when Hanzo twists his fingers, the harsh words turning into a desperate whimper. “Damnit, Hanzo, I can’t fuckin’ _think_ when you’ve got me like this. Can’t we do this some o-other time?”

No. Because lust, much like liquor, will loosen a man’s tongue to truths he wants to keep secret.

And Hanzo does not intend to let Jesse hide anything from him.

“Jesse?” He prompts again, following it up with a slow slide out, like he’s going to remove his fingers completely.

Which of course makes Jesse press back into them, hips arching and back dipping into the perfect cradle for Hanzo’s still petting hand. He can’t help but smile at how needy Jesse is, how desperate for his touch. 

“Fuck. Don’t--I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you!”

“Go on.” Hanzo adds to the encouragement by brushing a third finger around the rim of Jesse’s hole, like the promise of a treat if he behaves. 

“How about some whiskey? C-could drink it together, do this a little buzzed and see if it don’t--oh, _god_ , Hanzo--see if it don’t make it better.”

Hanzo frowns, scraping his nails over the sensitive skin of one cheek, half tempted to bring his hand down in rebuke. Whiskey isn’t a treat, Jesse could have it anytime he likes if only he asks. He’s being more difficult than Hanzo thought he might be. 

“No. Something bigger. Something you’ll get more use out of.”

“I guess...hell, I guess I could use some new boots? Can ya even find those here? T-The soles of mine are going and I--yeah, I guess new ones might be nice.”

“Good boy.” 

As promised, Hanzo sinks a third finger in, accompanying the added stretch with a drag of his nails over the knobs of Jesse’s spine. Too thin, the bones too easily seen beneath his flesh. But Hanzo will take care of that in time. 

“Can I--” Jesse doesn’t need to finish the question, Hanzo can feel the rolls of his hips, watch the way he grinds down against the thigh Hanzo carefully placed under him.

His pants are going to be a wreck by the time Jesse gets done. Hanzo honestly couldn’t care less if he has to throw them away. This is worth it.

_Jesse_ is worth it.

“Of course. Please.” 

Jesse ruts against his thigh, untamed and wild and so rough Hanzo’s momentarily concerned he’ll hurt himself. He seems to be caught between thrusting back on Hanzo’s fingers and forward into his leg. Hanzo fixes that problem quickly, sinking his finger inside when Jesse rocks forward and pulling out when Jesse pulls back.

He’s not surprised it doesn't take long before Jesse is bucking, pressed forward and _grinding_ into the muscle of his thigh, wet heat seeping through the fabric. Hanzo allows himself a few parting, teasing presses against Jesse’s prostate, coaxing out his orgasm just a little longer, before gently drawing his hand away.

His fingers tingle as he wipes them on the sheets, Hanzo viciously pushing down lingering thoughts of how tightly Jesse would grip his cock as he strokes a soft hand over a heaving back.

“Are you alright?”

“I dunno,” Jesse’s voice is muffled by the way he’s let his head fall back into his arms, speaking more to the bed than Hanzo. “Am I still on th’ planet? Kinda feels like I’m in space right now.”

“A good orgasm will do that.” Hanzo muses, thinking of the light-headed and airy feeling Jesse has elicited in him before. 

Jesse is slow when he moves, limbs lazy and uncoordinated, but he manages to twist so he’s straddling Hanzo’s lap, slumped against his chest. He pets a hand through Jesse’s sweaty hair, pushing it back from his face, scratching through the scruff of his beard.

He nearly snorts when he realizes Jesse is humming through the touches, like a giant housecat purring at a pleasing stroke.

“You’re somethin’ else, Hanzo.”

“Thank you.” 

Jesse snorts, one hand patting at Hanzo’s hip like it’s meant to be a punishment, if only Jesse had more energy.

“Arrogant sonuvabitch.”

“You’ve disparaged my mother quite a few times now.” Hanzo notes with a sense of amusement. “I assure you, she was a very kind woman.”

“Don’t play dumb, it don’t suit you real well.”

Hanzo hums, content in the lazy atmosphere that’s settled. He’s already thinking, brain running smoothly without the distracting interruption of Jesse’s body writhing in pleasure. While he’s not sure off hand where one could purchase the cowboy boots Jesse favors, it would be simple to obtain the information. A few calls made and he should be able to have a new pair delivered by tomorrow.

It grates that Jesse could not have them today, but a request made so late at night would be nigh on impossible. 

“Hey, I...uh...about the boots?”

“Yes?” 

“I don’t really need a new pair.” Jesse shifts on his lap, visibly uncomfortable, playing with the buttons on Hanzo’s shirt like he needs the distraction. “Mine are jus’ fine, y’know? I know I can make’em last, I’ve taped ‘em up before so it’s not like--”

“Jesse.” Hanzo cups his chin in one hand, forcing it up until Jesse has no choice but to meet his eyes. “Even I have noticed their poor state. No, you require new ones, fresh ones. And I will not abide any arguments on the subject.”

“Why are you doing this for me?” Jesse breathes.

Hanzo takes a moment to consider it. He’s not entirely sure himself, if he’s honest. This sort of altruism isn’t typically his modus operandi and when he is feeling charitable, it tends to be towards his own family members or treasured employees. Certainly never towards strangers and especially never towards one who had looked as haggard as Jesse had the first night they had met. 

How is he supposed to describe the feeling of warmth that blooms in his chest when he sees Jesse eat a good meal or awaken after a night of solid rest? How would Hanzo even begin to explain that something in him, something primal and senseless, practically howls with pleasure watching Jesse experience things he has provided for him?

In the end, he betrays the integrity of his clan, his personal honor code, and _lies_. 

“I feel responsible, in part, for your lack of work. Had I not intervened with the owner of your place of employment, you would not be out of a job. So I feel as though it is only right that I provide for you.”

“Oh.” Something flashes across Jesse’s face, there and gone before he can even begin to discover what it is. “Alrighty then.”

“Jesse--” Hanzo begins but is interrupted by the soft press of lips against his own.

Their kiss is nothing like before. This is soft, unwanting, lacking the desperation of earlier by such a margin it’s unfair to compare the two. It’s no less amazing, nor does it make Hanzo unhappy….but it is different.

“Jesse, what--”

“You wore me out somethin’ fierce, darlin’.” Jesse yawns and despite the forced lightness in his tone, the yawn isn’t fake in the slightest. “Would ya mind terribly if I used you for a bed for a bit? You’re awful comfy to lay on.”

“Of course,” Hanzo says gently, carefully stroking his hands up and down Jesse’s back. 

Something just changed. Something vital and important and Hanzo doesn’t know what it is. 

Yet.

He will find out. He is not one to take a lack of information lying down and while he can be convinced to wait in his relentless pursuit of the truth, he will not be stopped. 

Jesse will be happy again. No matter what Hanzo must do. 

.O.

As expected, the boots are on his desk by the time he’s readying to leave the next day. Hanzo picks the package up carefully, already having inspected them when they were delivered, like what’s contained within is more precious than just footwear.

In truth, it is. 

Jesse had been oddly quiet this morning, reserved, but no less affectionate. But Hanzo could tell the difference and his heart ached even as he left to complete his tasks for the day.

Something cold settles in his stomach at the thought that Jesse might not be at home to receive him when he arrives. Damn, why didn’t he ask one of the maids to check in on him? Or even took the day off to work out whatever made Jesse’s brow tight with tension. 

The entire ride home is an exercise in self-discipline. Hanzo doesn’t remove his phone from his pocket, doesn’t give in to the urge to call or text Jesse, and instead sits in impatient silence for the duration. He is not a child, nor some lovestruck teenager. If Jesse has seen fit to end their arrangement for whatever reason, he’s within his rights to do so. Hanzo has no true hold on him, he is not some cruel master to keep someone against their will.

If Jesse is not there, then so be it.

He takes his time coming inside, setting the boots down carefully before shrugging out of his coat to hang it up. It’s only once he goes to set his shoes down that he notices Genji’s are already there, thrown carelessly atop Jesse’s old boots.

Strange. Genji was supposed to be out today. For the entire day.

He’d even told Hanzo to ask the staff for a late dinner since he wouldn’t make it back in time.

Hanzo follows the sounds of chatter, of occasional laughter, hands sweaty as they grip the box containing Jesse’s boots. It doesn’t take long to find the room the noise emanates from and he slides the door open silently, regarding the scene.

Jesse and Genji are on opposite sides of the kotatsu, a pile of cards between them and a half empty bottle of sake sitting off to the side. He can see the telltale looseness to Jesse’s limbs as he gestures broadly, not seeing Hanzo as his back is towards him.

“And--And! It just ain’t saintly o’ your brother to get outta me what I want when he’s got his fingers up my ass! Made me feel like a man _possessed_!”

“No, please, regale me with more tales of my brother’s sexual deviancy.” Genji has his chin propped on his fist and Hanzo _knows_ he’s aware of his presence. 

The little ingrate can _see_ him from where he sits. 

“He jus’--” Jesse slams a fist into the table, so hard his sake cup rattles. “He wants to do all this stuff for me. Buy me fancy food and new boots and--and I don’t--well, it don’t seem right! He shouldn’t feel obligated to take care of me jus’ cause I can’t fight there anymore. If he was doin’ it cause he liked me or somethin’, I’d be more than happy to let him buy me all the fancy shit he wants!”

_Oh._

Oh no.

“Genji.” Hanzo doesn’t shift his attention when Jesse yelps and spins in place, nearly tipping over. “Would you leave us? I have some things to discuss with Jesse.”

“Of course.” Genji picks up the sake bottle, swinging it merrily as he strides from the room, calling over his shoulder. “We’ll play again sometime, Jesse! You can’t win every hand!”

Hanzo waits until Genji has slid the door shut to walk forwards. He places the box silently in front of Jesse, who’s turned back around and staring down at the table like a hurricane couldn’t force his gaze elsewhere, cheeks bright red. Hanzo takes Genji’s abandoned place, sinking back onto his heels and relishing in the warmth gathered under the kotatsu. 

“Your boots.” He says quietly, linking his fingers beneath his chin as Jesse mumbles his thanks. 

They sit in silence for a few moments, Jesse trailing his fingers over the edges of the box like he’s afraid to actually open it. Hanzo picks up a card from the table, bites back a snort when he realizes it’s an ace--what luck fate has for him. 

If only it were so kind in other aspects.

“Jesse--” He’s cut off by Jesse abruptly lifting his head, eyes a bit too wet and cheeks rosy red as he slashes a hand through the air.

“No. I get it. Y’ain’t gotta explain.”

“I think I do.” Hanzo says firmly, flipping the cards through his fingers. “Because if you truly feel as you’ve said you do, I have not made my intentions very clear.”

“You were pretty clear,” Jesse mumbles.

Hanzo sighs, scrubbing his hands over his face, feeling exhausted and strung out and _desperate_ to fix the distance between them. Jesse is a light in his otherwise blood-stained and dark world and he’s not about to lose him to a _lie_ , of all things. He chooses his words carefully, aware of how bare he’s laying himself, and forces himself to look at Jesse as he speaks.

“I was not being truthful. I was unsure how you would accept my wanting to care for you and I falsified my intentions because of that. In truth, I am _glad_ you are no longer fighting in the ring. I am ecstatic that you are here to greet me at the end of the day. I buy you things, I ask you what you would like to have, because I want to provide for you. Not out of some misguided sense of responsibility but because it brings me pleasure and satisfaction.”

“Oh.” Jesse looks down at the table then, drawing circles with one finger, obviously contemplating his words.

His cheeks are still flushed, but Hanzo can’t tell if it’s embarrassment or alcohol causing it. This is not a discussion to be had right now, not when Jesse isn’t in the right state of mind. Things like this should be discussed with clear minds, not one soaked in sake and the other soaked in the panic of losing something. 

“So you wanna be my...what? Sugar daddy or somethin’?”

“We do not have to title it if you don’t feel comfortable with that.” Hanzo props his cheek in his hand, leaning heavily onto his elbow. “I merely wish to provide for you.”

“And in return, what? I’ll suck you off every now and again?”

“My hope would be that you do that without it being some form of repayment.” Hanzo says wryly, grinning finally when Jesse bursts into laughter.

“Hell,” Jesse scrubs a hand through his hair, mussing it thoroughly. “Can’t say I wouldn’t. You got the _best_ cock.”

“....Thank you.”

“Jesus,” Jesse laughs, leaning back onto his arms, face tilting towards the ceiling. “Ain’t we a pair? And I’m...way too fuckin’ drunk for this conversation.”

“We can continue it tomorrow.” Because Hanzo agrees. Better that they stick to the very basics; that Jesse understands Hanzo’s words were false. “As long as you do not think I am doing this out of some form of pity.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jesse tips his head back down, eyes a bit shuttered, body slumping. “I sure as hell don’t understand why you’re doin’ it _period_. But bein’ a sugar baby is a hell of a lot better than bein’ a pity fuck.”

Hanzo climbs to his feet, offering a hand and grunting when Jesse accepts it to climb to his feet. He snags the box, holding it tight to his chest as he moves in close and presses a sloppy, sake-smelling kiss to Hanzo’s cheek.

“Take me to bed, Daddy?”

“Do not.” Hanzo hisses, ignoring Jesse’s laughter as he hooks a supporting arm around the other man’s waist. 

The details, the more precise points of their relationship, can be dealt with in the morning. Hanzo doesn’t have meetings until later, they’ll have time to sit and discuss them. After Jesse has sobered up a bit and recovered from the hangover Hanzo knows he’ll have. For right now, what they both need is a bed and time to rest, together. 

Everything else...can wait.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's other people! And a plot! Or, at least, a facsimile of one! (Look, my expertise is porn, I'm not going to disillusion myself into thinking you guys are here for some epic novel ;D)

Hanzo wakes the next morning with a solid line of heat pressed against his right side, a heavy pressure across his hips and chest. He doesn’t bother opening his eyes, allowing himself to float in the lazy lightness of the morning as he blindly strokes a hand down Jesse’s back. It earns him a sleepy rumble of pleasure, Jesse’s arm squeezing tighter across his ribs like Hanzo is some great teddy bear he’s snuggling with.

He can’t help but laugh at the thought, rousing Jesse further, and finally opens his eyes just in time to catch the grin on the other’s mans face.

“Somethin’ funny, darlin’?”

“Just...in a particularly pleasant mood this morning.”

“Mmm,” Jesse presses in even closer, until something hard and thick is grinding into the curve of Hanzo’s hip. “Bet I could make it even more pleasant, if you were willin’.”

He is. He _always_ is. But Jesse’s brow is tight with something other than the unpleasant transition from sleep to waking and he keeps swallowing thickly.

Hanzo does not relish the idea of taking someone while they’re ill.

“Unless you are somehow immune to hangovers, I think it best that wait until later.”

Jesse pouts, actually purses his lips and _pouts_ at him. Hanzo doesn’t bother hiding his laughter this time, chivvying Jesse out of bed with careful hands and steering him towards the en suite. 

“We will revisit the subject once you’ve eaten and had some medication. And a shower.”

“You tellin’ me I smell?” Jesse stops in the doorway, leering at him as Hanzo crosses to the communication tablet on the wall. 

“You smell very manly. Which is to say of sweat and alcohol.” Hanzo smirks at him, a wicked thought crossing his mind. “If you would allow me, I know the perfect cologne to compliment your natural scent. A bit pricey, of course, but it would make such a fantastic gift.”

As expected, Jesse’s cheeks redden suddenly and he ducks into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind him. Hanzo hides his amusement as he calls down for breakfast and the painkillers for Jesse’s headache. Jesse might have played coy and cheerful about the prospect last night, but he knows the idea of being lavished with gifts and trinkets still makes him uncomfortable. 

But not so uncomfortable he’s asked Hanzo to stop. _That_ is what is important.

Hanzo dresses only in what he needs to be presentable for the maids when they deliver the tray he ordered. His yukata isn’t tied as tight as it needs to be--Hanzo is not so old he’s forgotten what a loose and lazy look can do to a man--and he finds himself pulling the lapels open wider as the sound of the shower stops. He busies himself with setting the tray on the end of the bed, purposefully drawing his attention away so he isn’t leering when Jesse emerges from the bathroom alongside a wave of steam.

“Feeling better?”

There’s a low noise, something conjured in the back of the throat like an animal, and Hanzo finally deigns to lift his gaze with a smirk playing around his mouth. Jesse is frozen in the doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist and hair still dripping onto his shoulders as he _stares_.

“Does the breakfast appeal to you so much?” Hanzo teases, settling cross-legged on the bed, his back to the low headboard. “I think you may be drooling.”

“You know damn good’n’well it ain’t the _breakfast_ I’m gawking at.” 

Jesse crosses the room with long strides, careful not to upset the tray full of food as he all but tackles Hanzo. They fall in a heap, thankfully far enough from the tray, and Hanzo hums as he runs his hands over still damp skin. 

There’s so much of it exposed, he’s barely able to decide what to touch next.

“You need to eat.” He murmurs into the curve of Jesse’s shoulder, so close his words are a kiss.

“Oh, I plan on it.” Jesse starts to shimmy down his body, rudely pushing the yukata wider, pulling at the tie around his waist. “Jus’ gotta unwrap my meal first.”

“No.” Hanzo stops him with a word, Jesse freezing, hands instantly lifting from his body.

“No?”

“No.” He sits up, pulling Jesse in close so he doesn’t think he’s being chastised. “You are still unwell. I am, as always, grateful for your attention and your willingness to give me such pleasure. But I am more concerned, at this moment, for your health.”

“I feel fine!” Jesse swears, but the crinkle of his brow at his own loudness makes Hanzo sigh.

“If you do not behave and eat and take your medicine, I will put you over my knee, Jesse.”

It’s an idle threat, more Hanzo calling to memory what would have made him behave as a recalcitrant child, but the flush that explodes on Jesse’s cheeks piques his interest. He harbors the thought away in his mind, in a carefully labelled section meant for things about this man he’s become so enamored with, and gestures to the tray.

“I do not like to repeat myself.”

“Alright, alright.” Jesse mutters under his breath as he seats himself properly on the bed and starts to pick at the tray. “I ain’t a child, you ain’t gotta get after me like one.”

Hanzo settles himself next to Jesse, tucking his hair behind his ears primly. He can see Jesse staring at him, even as the man downs the pills left on the tray, and firmly ignores it, fetching his phone from where it had fallen onto the blanket during their tussle. Jesse huffs, leaning into him as he starts to eat like he’s upset at the lack of attention, and it makes Hanzo smile softly even as he continues to ignore him.

If it makes Jesse eat and look after himself, Hanzo will deny his own need to watch the man. He’s rather good at denying himself things, he made a habit of it when he was younger to test his own inner strength. 

Though this is a denial more cruel than it usually was in his youth.

To assist himself, Hanzo thumbs open his email, scrolling through all the nonsense that had come in during the night. There are pleas from companies the Shimadas have control in, asking for assistance for this or that, and invitations to all sorts of events. The winter season opens the door to many parties and soirees.

Hanzo chances a glance at Jesse as he opens an email from a friend. Does the man own a suit? Proper party attire?

Likely not. 

He smiles to himself. Another chance to give a gift, then. Perhaps even one Jesse wouldn’t protest, as the man seems to take pride in his appearance.

“Oh.” The noise is unexpected and he hears Jesse’s answering grunt as he leans in closer.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

“A friend. She’s going to be in Hanamura for a few days and wants to know if I could meet for dinner.”

“Hey, you should go!” Jesse nudges him with his elbow, taking a drink of his juice before lifting another spoonful of rice to his mouth. “Seems like all you do is spend time at work and with me. I ain’t complainin’, but a man’s gotta have friends.”

“Perhaps I will.” Hanzo says softly, replying to ask Satya if she had preferences on time and location.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to see his friend. Satya is a kindred soul in the world, with coinciding views and beliefs, and she understands his position like little few do. In another world, years ago, there had been hope within the clan that they might marry. Her ‘defect’, as they had put it, was of little concern in the face of his ‘outstanding genetics’.

Hanzo bares his teeth at the memory. Satya’s autism made her one of the finest and most sought after architects in the world, her attention to detail and perfection unparalleled by any others. She had been partially responsible for the full redesign of the gardens that everyone loved to coo over. That people could speak so unkindly of her still makes Hanzo’s blood boil. 

Even if she was not successful, she was still an amazing person. And gay, just like him, which had dashed all the Clan Elders happy plans for them.

He still relishes the look of shock on their faces as he and Satya stood side by side and said that, no, no marriage would be taking place between them. Unless the clan would be perfectly fine with both of them consistently breaking the vows of monogamy to sleep with their preferred genders.

“You look pretty lost in thought there, darlin’.” Jesse’s arm slides around his waist, comforting and grounding Hanzo back into the moment. “You all right?”

“Apologies.” Hanzo turns his face, pecks a kiss onto Jesse’s cheek. “I was merely thinking of my friend.”

“Must be one hell of a person to get you lost like that.”

“She is.” Hanzo pushes his nose into Jesse’s cheek at the sudden grunt. “Hush. I have no inclination towards women. But Satya is one of the precious few people to truly know me.”

“Well, you gotta meet up with her then!”

“She is also an incorrigible gossip and rumor-hound.” Hanzo arches a brow. “If she finds out about you, she will most certainly insist upon meeting you. There is little doubt in my mind that she _will_ find out about you, as secrets, to her, are puzzles to be solved with single-minded intensity. And she will tell Amelie. Which is another can of worms it is simply too early in the morning to contemplate.”

“Oh.” Jesse sets his bowl down, swallowing thickly, a panicked look on his face. “Uh, you--uh--sounds like you got some mighty scary friends there, Hanzo.”

“I would not expose them to you without proper preparation.”

“Mighty kind o’ you.” Jesse mumbles.

Hanzo can’t help but laugh, pressing another kiss to Jesse’s cheek and gesturing with his free hand towards the still half-full tray.

“Eat. I will not be distracted.”

Jesse groans but complies, leaving Hanzo to his email and his thoughts. Amelie and Satya would not judge Jesse as many others in their social circles would, but this would be the first time he’d bothered to introduce anyone to them. It is a daunting prospect and one he’d need more time to think about before ever attempting.

Still…

He glances at Jesse, now totally enraptured with his food as his stomach no doubt settles, picking at a bit of everything as he goes about demolishing the meal. The man looks gorgeous as the sun rises, throwing light and shadow into the room, but he always does. Even before his shower, mussed from bed and sleepily propositioning him, Jesse was a sight to behold. Hanzo wants to show him off, wants to thrust him upon the world and announce that he has claimed him for his own. 

It’s foolish to feel so deeply so soon.

And yet…

.O.

“Well, look at what I found.” 

Jesse groans at the cheerful voice, half tempted to dive inside the clothing rack he’s currently rummaging through.

Hanzo had pressed a shiny black card into his palm this morning before he’d left, telling Jesse his ‘reward’ for finishing his breakfast was to buy himself some new clothes. Winter was coming on fast, the air already biting through his cheap old coat, and Hanzo was having none of it. 

“Hana, why in the hell are you in Hanamura?”

“Promotional thing.” She pops her gum, leaning on the rack he’s currently sifting through. “I kinda assumed you weren’t still here until I saw that ratty old hat of yours through the window.”

Jesse scowls at her, moving over to a nearby rack and groaning when she trails behind him, brown hair bouncing as she practically skips.

“Did ya need somethin’?”

“Jesse,” Hana puts her hands on her hips, lowering her voice after a quick look at the salespeople lingering near the checkout desk. “Seriously. I heard you don’t fight anymore but you’re here shopping? So obviously you’re not hurting for cash. C’mon. Did you get a new job or something?”

“Or somethin’.” Jesse dodges the question, though not very neatly. 

Hana isn’t going to give up. If Hanzo has scary friends, Jesse might just have scarier ones. Meeting Hana had been a total accident, him taking a job as security while he was still roaming around looking for a place to settle. Some perv had tried to grab a handful of the goods as she bounced around promoting a new drink and Jesse had quickly put the man in his place.

And backward onto the pavement. 

She’d immediately latched onto him as some sort of savior and now Jesse can count ‘international gaming star’ as one of his closest, if not most annoying, friends. They kept in contact mostly by text, with Hana occasionally Snapchatting him Western stuff, from the various countries she went to, that reminded her of him. In return, Jesse would take pictures of everything that had her face or her gamertag, the iconic D.Va with the accompanying bunny face, to send back to her.

“If you don’t tell me, I’m gonna post a picture of us on my Instagram. And then you will be totally _hounded_ with thousands of angry fanboys who wanna know if you’re fucking me.”

“ _Hana_!” Jesse throws a scandalized look over his shoulder, but luckily the ladies at the register seem more interested in their conversation than him. “Damnit! Would’ya keep your voice down?”

“Your move, Jess,” she singsongs, waggling her phone at him with another pop of her gum. 

“Fine, fine, just...do me a favor in return?”

“Sure,” Hana shrugs, tucking her phone back into her jacket. 

“Help me pick out somethin’ good lookin’?”

“Oooooh, are we trying to impress a boy?” Hana’s eyes narrow in playfulness before blinking wide when Jesse fidgets in place, cheeks burning. “Oh my god, no way! Are you serious?!”

“Stop that! Jus’...jus’ help me? And I’ll tell ya all the gossip you want.”

“Awww, Jess has a _boyfriend_ and he’s probably so _cute_ and you wanna dress nice to _impress_ him and--”

“Hana, I hate you.”

“I know. So many do. The price of fame.”

.O.

“So wait,” Hana holds her hands up in a ‘stop’ motion, almost upsetting her cup of coffee. “This guy is like...Yakuza? Like for real _Yakuza_?”

“A big boss, as best I can figure. Got lots of people bowing to him and stuff.”

“Holy cow.” Hana props her chin in her hands, going starry eyed as she stares across the table. “This is just like those cheesy romance movies. Big Yakuza boss meets the hapless American foreigner and falls hopelessly in love!”

“It ain’t like that.” Jesse mumbles, staring deep into his own cup, the swirling coffee mocking his tumultuous thoughts. 

Hanzo isn’t in love with him, at least, not that he’s said. Sure, he might like having Jesse around, but what person wouldn’t like having a willing sexual partner around all the time? He’d said he was fond of him, liked buying him stuff, but that didn’t mean love or anything like that. Just that Hanzo has a few kinks and Jesse fits them nicely.

Which was fine. God knows Jesse has a few kinks of his own that Hanzo plays into.

His face flushes thinking of Hanzo’s idle spanking comment and he banishes the thoughts from his mind with a rough shake of his head. Hana is still staring at him as he brings himself back to reality and Jesse fidgets under the gaze, scowling at her.

“What.”

“So, this guy, what did you say his name was?”

“Hanzo.” Jesse shakes his finger at her when she pouts, catching sight of her phone just under the lip of the table. “Hana, don’t you go stickin’ your nose into my business! I don’t want you pullin’ up articles and stuff on him. I dealt with that stuff all my life with my dads and I don’t wanna start it again now.”

“Ugh. Whatever.” She dumps her phone next to her cup, swinging one foot to kick lightly at his shin. “I’m just curious. But _do_ I like that you’re not fighting anymore. I hated you doing that.”

“It’s good, easy money.”

“It was good, but not easy. I told you, you can come be part of my security detail. Like, a permanent part. I’d pay better and you wouldn’t get the shit kicked out of you for it.”

“Do you know what the term security actually means?” Jesse laughs when she sticks her tongue out at him. “Naw, like I said before, I appreciate it, Hana, I really do. But travelin’ all over the world didn’t appeal to me anymore. Jus’ wanted to put down roots for a while, even if I didn’t do it in America. But I appreciate you pretendin’ I did.”

That was another reason he and Hana were so close. According to Jack and Gabriel Reyes-Morrison, Jesse was Hana’s personal bodyguard. They traveled around with each other and Jesse was living a good life and making good money doing it. Better for his folks hearts that they didn’t know the truth of it all. He loved them, but he never had the heart to admit he wasn’t a military type like them.

So when he’d been booted out of basic for starting fights with the other recruits who thought they could talk down to the guy with the thick drawl and cowboy boots, he’d just...ran.

Told his folks he was being transferred, packed his duffel bag and started on his way. Then the fight clubs and the whole mess sent him overseas and all that then landed him right where he is now. Sitting next to about three hundred dollars worth of new clothes, with a card that’s got a limit probably ten thousand times that amount in his pocket, having lunch with a star.

Life works in odd ways. But it let him meet Hanzo, so Jesse isn’t all that bothered by it.

“Which reminds me. Say cheese!” Hana had twisted around in her seat, holding up a peace sign by her face as she held the camera out in front of her. 

Jesse just barely managed a grin before it he heard it click. Then Hana was twisting back, fingers flying across the surface.

“I’m gonna send it to you, you can send it to your dads. Then they’ll know you’re with me since it’s gonna be all over that I’m in Hanamura right now.”

“You’re a peach, Hana.”

Jesse drags his phone from his pocket when it chimes, scowling as one of his callouses catch on the cracked corner of the screen. Damn thing had gotten knocked from his pocket during a scuffle with a man who wasn’t too happy Jesse had won the fight and made him lose his bet. 

Jesse wound up with a broken phone, but that guy had walked away with a broken nose. So at least he got the better end of that deal. 

He shoots it off to his dads with a small ‘Greetings from Hanamura!’ message tacked onto it. His fingers hesitate over the keys for a split second as Jesse catches sight of Hanzo’s name at the top of his recent messages. The man’s probably busy working, and Jesse does his level best not to bother him while he’s at work. It seems like Hanzo has enough to deal with during the day without responding to silly little texts.

But he’d pulled Jesse in close as he’d prepared to leave for work, pressing the card to his hand and a kiss to his cheek. He’d also asked Jesse to text him, let him know if he found anything worth buying.

Jesse knew it was more Hanzo making sure he actually went out and bought something than any worry about the amount or anything.

But still….

He takes another swallow of coffee to fortify himself before sending the picture off to Hanzo as well, typing in a small message underneath it.

_Met an old friend while out shopping. She swears you’re gonna love what I bought._

Jesse firmly sticks his phone back in his pocket afterwards, making a promise he won’t check it until he’s done visiting with Hana. He’s already been rude enough, staring down at his phone like it had all the answers. But when he looks up, Hana is just staring at him with a dreamy sort of grin on her face.

“Oh, for the love of--what now?”

“You liiiike him,” Hana grins, one finger tracing the rim of her cup. “You really liiiike him.”

“Jus’ drink your coffee and leave my love life outta this.”

“Oh my god, good point!” Hana leans in closer, forearms bracing her weight on the table. “I totally forgot to ask.”

“Ask what?”

“Is he good in bed? Like, you said he’s older. And some older guys have _lots_ of trouble. So, like--”

“Hana Song, if you don’t hush your mouth!”

.O.

Hanzo arrives home and doesn’t even bother lining his shoes up by the door, simply kicks them off and keeps on his way. Exhaustion drags at him, claws sunk in deep with the stress of the day, and he barely manages to make it to his room before collapsing onto the bed. His scarf knots up under his shoulder, an annoying press of fabric, but Hanzo is too tired to even think about shedding his clothing right now. 

He’d been right. Satya had instantly latched onto him when he’d hedged about dinner during their call, picking and needling until he’d admitted he was seeing someone. He hadn’t explained the details of their relationship, but he didn’t need to. All Satya cared about was that he was seeing someone that was important enough he would even _consider_ bringing him to dinner with them.

_”Amelie will be overjoyed when I tell her. You know how she’s been teasing you to get a bedwarmer for years.”_

_“He is not a simple bedwarmer, Satya. I care for him.”_

_“Even better, my friend. Loneliness is a disease that can kill if left untreated.”_

_“Have you purchased a new poetry book?”_

_“No, but I could buy you a new book on humor, if you like. Yours seems to have withered in your old age.”_

Hanzo is so lost in his thoughts, in the other stressors of the day, he nearly missed the heavy footsteps headed towards the room. The maids don’t make so much noise and it can only be Jesse, back from his own busy day. Hanzo had been admittedly shocked to see that Hana Song was one of Jesse’s friends and resolved himself to ask how that particular friendship came about. 

But it relieved him in so many ways to see proof Jesse did have friends in this world. If it were only Hanzo and his admittedly very short list of trusted persons that Jesse had to turn to, it would be a lonely existence for the man. 

“Hanzo? You alright, darlin’?”

“Exhausted.” His words are muffled by the blanket but understandable enough, if Jesse’s laugh is any measure of judgement. 

“I can tell. C’mon, sugar, let’s get you outta those clothes so you can get comfy.”

Careful hands pull him off the bed, roll him until Hanzo has his legs draped over the side and is staring into Jesse’s amused face. He lets Jesse strip him, standing when he needs to, but otherwise content to let the other man do all the work. There’s something niggling in the back of his mind as it happens, a low level of arousal at being treated so carefully with such rough hands, but he’s far too tired to think more on it. 

He sees the shopping bags by the door as Jesse is coaxing him out of his pants, leaving him in nothing but his briefs.

“Will you show me what you’ve bought?”

“Later,” Jesse laughs, ushering him under the covers and quickly stripping before sliding in next to him. “Darlin’, you’re barely awake. I’ll show you tomorrow if you really want me to.”

“Being a person is exhausting, Jesse.” Hanzo groans, scrubbing one hand over his face as he mumbles the words out.

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

Hanzo relaxes then, letting Jesse slot a thigh between his legs and cuddle in close like he likes to. His arm lays draped over the man’s shoulders, Jesse’s breath warm on his chest, and that low level of arousal is back at the tickling feeling.

“Mmm, this was not the end I planned to the day.”

“I’ll suck you off in the morning. You can wake up with your cock in my mouth, how’s that sound?”

Hanzo laughs, too tired to actually do anything about the pulse of heat that travels down to his cock. He draws on Jesse’s shoulder with his thumb, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Perhaps I will wake before you and you will be the one waking up to pleasure.”

“Sugar, at this rate, I’m pretty sure you ain’t gonna wake up before that alarm of yours goes off for love of God or country.”

“We shall see.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have continuation of plot! And porn! I really like this chapter, I hope you guys do too!

Jesse jolts into consciousness like a shot out of a gun. His hands instantly fly to the lump beneath the covers as his head grinds backwards into the pillow, body pulled into an arch by another insistent suck. 

“H-Hanzo!”

There’s a slick sounding pop and then Hanzo’s voice, rough and husky, drifts up from under the covers.

“I woke up before you.”

“Y-yeah, I can tell.” Jesse tries to breathe through the pleasure of Hanzo’s slow pumping jerks. “Get up here so I can--so I can do somethin’.”

“Mmm, I rather like where I am.” Hanzo licks up the side of his cock, the broad stroke a line of fire over sensitive nerves. “Unless you can offer me something better, I think I’ll stay.”

Jesse’s fists clench in the blankets as Hanzo does just that, sinking his mouth back down around his cock. He sucks cock like he does everything else, ruthlessly and arrogantly. Jesse barely has time to breathe from one tantalizing moment to the next, feet kicking out as Hanzo scrapes his teeth gently against the very tip.

He fucking loves it.

But he doesn’t want this. Well, he _wants_ it, he wants Hanzo however Hanzo will take him, but this is...this isn’t supposed to be what Hanzo does. Jesse is supposed to be giving Hanzo pleasure, not the other way around.

“Get up here.” He reaches under the covers, grabs until his fingers catch on Hanzo’s shoulders, and tugs firmly. 

Hanzo comes up from under the covers looking like every wet dream Jesse’s ever had. His long hair is messy, slipping over his shoulders, a strand caught in his earring. His lips are red and plush, slick still, and Jesse can’t help but drag him into a kiss the second he’s high enough for it.

He grinds up into Hanzo’s thigh as they kiss, thrusting his tongue deep, trying to find equal footing in this situation. Everything is a haze of sleep and sex and it’s amazing and wonderful and there’s not a single foothold for him to find.

Doesn’t matter. Because Hanzo is hard against his hip, rolling down in little controlled motions that Jesse is desperate to feel in other ways. 

“I wanna--I wanted to blow you.”

“There is a way,” Hanzo bites at his mouth, vicious without cruelty, and swipes his tongue over them to soothe instantly after. “Depending on your flexibility.”

“Oh, _fuck_ yes.” Jesse groans, he’s seen enough porn to understand. “Yes. Please.”

“How should I--”

“On top of me. Please.” Jesse kicks at the covers as best he can without losing Hanzo’s body weight atop him. 

It takes a few seconds of moving around, where Jesse is utterly distracted by the flex and tension of Hanzo’s muscles under his skin and the gorgeous, bright colors of Hanzo’s tattoo in his peripheral. Finally, Hanzo’s knees are above his shoulders and Jesse is reaching up to grip at his ass, urging him to dip his hips. 

He opens his mouth to the thick press of Hanzo’s cock, groaning around the length when Hanzo immediately sets back about his own task. He’s not skilled as he sucks, drool slipping from the corners of his mouth, messy in his eagerness.

Jesse doesn’t care. This is the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to him.

Hanzo is busy between his thighs, one hand cupping his balls gently, the other wrapped around the base to keep his cock steady as he slowly but surely sinks his mouth down around it. Jesse grunts when he feels his cock head gripped tighter suddenly, mouth going slack as Hanzo gags and pulls back.

There’s a rough murmur of apologies that has Jesse grinning.

Aw, Hanzo has a gag reflex. That's actually adorable for a man his age.

Luckily for them, Jesse’s doesn’t have a single aversion to choking on a cock.

It’s a little harder to tip his head back in the right way, open his throat, but when he does, Jesse grips Hanzo’s hips and _yanks_ him down. His knees slide wider as there’s a startled yelp and then a deep groan of satisfaction. Jesse grins when Hanzo takes his mouth off his cock completely to pant heavily into his hip.

He allows him to pull back just long enough that he can get another lungful of air before hauling him back in. It takes a few moments, but soon enough Hanzo gets the message and is fucking his throat as he tries to get back into his own rhythm. 

Every time he has to pull off Jesse’s cock to whine or whimper is another victory Jesse happily places into memory.

There’s a mumble he can’t quite make out, something desperate and high, and Jesse quickly eases back. He’s been around the block enough to know what that means. Sure enough, Hanzo’s come spurts across his tongue in splashes, making an even bigger mess. Jesse swallows it down quickly, aware he could still choke and ruin the mood, and suckles at the end of Hanzo’s cock until the other man shifts with a soft noise.

“Sorry, darlin’, I couldn’t help-- _fuck_!”

Apparently Hanzo took offense to being made to come first. One finger, slick with drool but not enough that it doesn’t burn, is inside him as Hanzo sinks down on his cock once more. Jesse bends his legs up, gives Hanzo more room to work, and turns to bury his face into one powerful thigh. Hanzo works him over quickly, orgasm boiling up and over so fast it makes him breathless.

Jesse bites into Hanzo’s thigh when he comes, desperate and primal, shaking apart. There’s a bright red indent of teeth when he pulls back and he licks at it, come-dumb and reverted back to his base instincts.

He’s not sorry about it. He likes the idea of Hanzo walking around with a bite mark on his thigh. A mark from Jesse, a secret between them.

“God _damn_ , sugar.” Jesse breathes as Hanzo all but topples off of him, flopping onto the bed.

“Enjoyable?” Hanzo’s voice is a wreck and Jesse pets blindly at his side in apology.

“That’s one word for it, yeah. Damn, I think you sucked my brain out.”

“Good.”

There’s possession and satisfaction in the tone and it makes Jesse shiver, patting around until he can grab Hanzo’s hand. Their fingers link easily, Hanzo squeezing for just a moment.

“Give me time to recover and I will get something to wipe up any mess.”

Hanzo hadn’t quite managed to swallow it all, come slick and cooling on Jesse’s hips, no doubt making a sticky mess of his pubic hair. He doesn’t care. This was the best morning he’s ever had and nothing is going to ruin that. 

“Hell, that shower of yours is big enough to fit two. Wouldn’t have to dirty any rags that way.”

“You have a beautiful mind, Jesse.”

“Amongst other things.” Jesse grins at Hanzo’s half-hearted kick to his shoulder, too gentle to be anything more than a love tap. 

“Hush. Let me enjoy my afterglow.”

.O.

“I would like to take you shopping today.”

Jesse pauses where he’s attempting to capture rice with his chopsticks, no doubt trying to emulate Hanzo. He looks up, blinking owlishly, before tipping his head to the side.

“I just went yesterday, I showed you my clothes. Did’ja not like ‘em?”

“It’s not that at all.” Hanzo sets the sticks down, folding his fingers and searching for the best words in this situation. “How do I go about this...Satya wishes to have dinner tomorrow night, it’s why I’ve taken the weekend off from my office. And as she is a guest, I’ve allowed her to choose the restaurant. The one she has chosen has a...particularly strict dress code.”

“And what I wear don’t fit in it.” Jesse says it like it’s a statement of fact, no emotion in his level tone. “What if I don’t wanna go?”

“You are not required to, nor would I force you to if you didn’t wish to attend. I can merely say that I _hope_ you will attend with me.”

Jesse sighs, scrubbing at his face for a minute, chopsticks carelessly dropped onto the table. Hanzo eats in the quiet that falls, awaiting an answer but trying to appear nonchalant. He wants Jesse to go with him so badly he can almost taste it, bitter and needy on the back of his tongue like pleas unaired. He wants to take Jesse to the restaurant, place only the finest foods in front of him to be eaten, and show him off to the world.

The bite mark on his thigh _throbs_ , reminding him he’s not the only possessive one in the relationship.

But it is ultimately Jesse’s decision. This is rather fast, especially given how little time they’ve actually spent conscious with one another. Nearly three weeks have passed since the fateful night at the fight club, but it has been filled with exhaustive work and more time spent apart than he’d like. Hanzo has already begun to think about taking a small vacation, putting Genji in charge for once in his life to relish in the time with Jesse uninterrupted by his work.

It would be the first time he’s done such a thing, never one to shirk his responsibilities.

Jesse is more of a temptation than Hanzo imagined he might be. 

The man is deep in contemplation, staring down at his meal like it holds all the answers. Hanzo almost feels guilty for bringing it up in the first place when he sees the deep crease in Jesse’s brow, a muscle ticking in his strong jaw.

“I’ll make you a deal, Hanzo.”

“I’m listening.” Hanzo relaxes back, links his fingers in front of him, ready for debate.

He’s well used to such propositions. The phrase is almost as familiar to him as his own name, everyone wanting to make a deal with the leader of the Shimada Clan.

“If I let you take me shopping for some fancy ass suit or somethin’...you fuck me.”

“ _Jesse!_ ” Hanzo feels his face flush a bright red, breaking from his composure almost instantly. “That is--you don’t need to--”

“I know.” Jesse grins across the table at him, obviously pleased with having caught him off guard. “But I wanna. Like I said, sugar, you got the _best_ cock. High time I felt it inside me.”

Hanzo swallows, fingers now digging into the table as he tries to find balance. Jesse’s words bring to mind appealing images, the man stretched out below him, or even above him. His cock inside the tight heat he’s only explored with his fingers thus far. A fissure of pleasure crawls up his spine, lazy and languid, and Hanzo is amazed to feel his cock twitch underneath his yukata. 

He’s far too old to be doing this twice in one day.

Jesse is _full_ of surprises for him, apparently.

“If you desire it, I could take you right now.” Hanzo says levelly, watching the way Jesse’s brown skin goes crimson along the lines of his cheekbones. “No need to buy you anything, no bartering or deals. I would spread you across this table like a feast and _gorge_ myself on you.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jesse breathes, leaning closer, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. “Would’ya be rough with me? Or gentle?”

“It depends entirely on how well you _behave_ for me.”

Hanzo watches Jesse’s eyes shutter and fall shut, pleased with having gained the upper hand. He is not a master at negotiation for nothing, and he is more than willing to use those skills to tantalize his partner. Jesse started this, but Hanzo will finish it.

Though he’s not entirely sure he wants it to end.

“Haven’t been fucked in a while, darlin’. You’d have to be real careful with me.” Jesse’s eyes are wicked, barely open slits in his handsome face. “At first.”

“There are ways to draw out pleasure and gently prepare you for my cock.” Hanzo assures him, idly tracing a finger around the rim of his cup. “Tell me, Jesse; have you ever been licked open? Had someone press their tongue to the sweetness of your hole and drive you mad? I’ve been _desperate_ to do it.”

“Oh my god,” Jesse groans, hands flying under the table as his body rocks, like he’s already trying to thrust against something. “Hanzo, you’re gonna--no. I ain’t never had nothing like that.”

“Then it will be my privilege and pleasure to introduce you to it.”

“I want--” Jesse cuts himself off with a rough shake of his head. “Can we? Right now? Are you… _can_ you?”

“I...am a bit too old to be intimate twice in such a short period of time. No matter how much I desire you,” Hanzo scowls, annoyed with the limitations of his own body, “old age is unkind to one wishing to act young.”

“Right, right,” Jesse’s sweating, the hair at his temples a darker color than the rest, and he’s shifting restlessly. 

Hanzo considers him for a moment, a brief glance at their table to see that Jesse is nearly done with his lunch anyhow. They could leave, easily, right now. Go back to their room for some privacy.

But the maids are out for the day, running their various errands. He knows their schedule, knows no one is home save for the guards that stand at specific points, a schedule of movement and security he knows by heart. They have at least an hour of privacy, going by the quick check of his watch, before the staff would be in any position to catch them.

He hasn’t had such wicked thoughts since he was a teenager but...the opportunity is too good to resist.

“Move away from the table.”

“I...uh...what?”

Hanzo rises to his feet, catching Jesse as he’s still trying to get up, and yanking him into a kiss. His hand slips down his chest, across the planes of muscle and bulk he’s already starting to put on with daily full meals. Jesse groans into the kiss, heady and panting, when Hanzo’s palm finds and grinds against his cock. He pushes backwards, until Jesse’s back slams into the wall next to the door leading to the gardens outside. 

“I want to see you come.”

“You ain’t gotta ask twice,” Jesse tells him breathlessly, hands scrambling alongside Hanzo’s to open his jeans. 

Hanzo doesn’t wait for him to push them down, simply thrusts his hand inside Jesse’s briefs and grips at his cock. It’s warm in his hand, hot and thick, and Jesse bucks up into the hold with a wounded noise. There’s a small moment of awkwardness, where Jesse is trying to work his clothes down around his thighs while Hanzo refuses to let go or stop the rhythmic pump of his wrist.

It settles quickly enough and Jesse all but collapses against the wall, head tipped back to show his throat. Hanzo jumps at the chance to latch onto the unblemished skin, licking a thick line over his pounding pulse. The scruff of Jesse’s beard tickles his nose and Hanzo smiles into his throat at the sound of a wordless pleading noise.

“Do you like this? Me taking care of you in this way?”

“ _God_ , yeah.” Jesse groans, hands scrambling at Hanzo’s shoulders, hips working in a desperate circle to fuck into his grip. “Sh-should be takin’ care of you but it feels so--feels so--”

“Hush,” Hanzo bites at the expanse of skin under his lips in reprimand for such foolishness. “I’ve told you, Jesse, your happiness brings me pleasure unmatched. Let me do this for you.”

“Darlin’, I’ll let you do any goddamn thing you want to me.”

Hanzo rubs his thumb across the leaking slit, spreading the liquid there, earning a soft and broken moan of his name. Jesse is gorgeous, jerky movements and guttural sounds, as he loses just a bit more control. He feels _powerful_ , having such control over him, and can’t help but take the opportunity to tease.

“Did the idea of me fucking you with my tongue appeal so much? You’re so _desperate_ , Jesse. What in the world went on in that filthy mind of yours?”

“ _You_.” The admission is harsh, gritted out between clenched teeth as Jesse nearly bucks his hand off with an uncontrolled thrust. “You, doin’ that, doin’ anythin’ to me. God, you’re so fucking hot and you’re all mine and I can’t--Hanzo, I _can’t_!”

“You can,” Hanzo grips a handful of Jesse’s hair in his free hand, tugging and sacrificing his mouth against Jesse’s throat to force their gazes to meet. “You can be a good boy for me. I’ll reward you so handsomely for your good behavior, Jesse. You’ll want for nothing, do and have anything and everything you wish.”

“L-like a housewife.” 

Hanzo smiles, sees Jesse gulp at what he imagines is a wicked look on his face, satisfaction swelling in his chest. 

“Would you like that? Staying here at home, waiting for me to return so I can bend you over and have my way with you? Spend your days fingering yourself open, so all I need to do is get your clothes off before I’m inside you?” 

Hanzo licks at Jesse’s mouth, the other man too far gone to return it, lips slack and slick. 

“Perhaps you won’t wear clothes at all. Wander around so all can see the marks I leave, the way my come leaks from your hole after I’ve spent myself inside you.”

Jesse makes a desperate keen, low in his throat, hands suddenly gripping Hanzo’s shirt so tightly he fears it may rip. 

“Oh my _god_ , Hanzo--”

“Or perhaps you will wander from the house occasionally. Tuck yourself under my desk while I work, wrap your lips around my cock as I attend meetings. Listen as others attempt to win my favor, only to know that _you_ alone control a man so powerful.”

“ _Hanzo_!”

He doesn’t stop when Jesse starts to come, coaxing him through his orgasm with slowing strokes. Jesse’s come slicks the way, making everything warm and wet, and Hanzo curses his own body for nothing more than the interested twitches of his cock this entire time. It was wonderful to focus on Jesse like this, the other man’s pleasure the only goal, but it would have been so much sweeter to follow up on his intentions.

To spread Jesse open on the table and feast upon him instead of some abysmal meal that could never compare.

Jesse’s hands pat frantically at his shoulders, indicating the over-sensitivity has set in, and Hanzo carefully draws his hand back. It’s grasped almost instantly, to his surprise, and he doesn’t bother to bite back his groan when Jesse’s tongue brushes across his palm. Jesse’s expression is lazy, a flush still on his cheeks, eyes glittering as he carefully licks up the mess he’d made. 

It’s not until Hanzo’s hand is completely clean of come, covered now only in Jesse’s drying saliva, that he lets go. And drags Hanzo in for a kiss that is gentle, and somehow, thankful.

“I want all that,” Jesse admits when they part for breath, still panting in the aftermath. “The housewife part and the office part and the….the everythin’, sugar.”

“You realize it means you’ll have to accept the not-so-occasional extravagant gifts I’ll want to give you?”

“As long as I get more of _this_ ,” Jesse sweeps a hand down to indicate their bodies, still pressed in close, “I might bitch’n’moan about it, but I ain’t gonna stop you.”

“Good boy.”

.O.

Jesse’s phone chimes as the tailor is stretching a length of tape across his shoulders. Hanzo watches him freeze, turning his head to look at Hanzo with pleading eyes. He reaches over to his side, plucks the phone from atop the pile of clothes on the loveseat next to him, sipping from his wine as his eyes scan the screen.

“Gabe?” He asks in question, arching a brow at the way Jesse suddenly goes pale, moving only to stop once he’s tsked at by the tailor. 

“Can you--shit, he’ll get worried if I don’t answer. Why’s he gotta call _now_ of all times?! Can you answer? Tell him I’m...I dunno, in the shower or somethin’?”

“The truth would not suffice?” Hanzo muses under his breath, before accepting the call and lifting the phone to his ear.

“You’ve reached Jesse’s phone. This is Hanzo speaking.”

“Sorry, _who_ is speaking?” The voice on the other end is rough, guttural in tone, like the owner had a throat injury or something to that effect.

“Hanzo Shimada. Jesse is currently unavailable. Could I perhaps take a message for you?”

He is not a message boy, but he is very curious. There’s a small spark of irritation in his chest already at the thought of some random man--who would be _worried_ if Jesse didn’t answer--calling his lover. He forces it down, reminding himself Jesse does have friends and said friends would, presumably, care enough about him to be worried if he did not answer.

“Yeah, you can ask Jesse why a fucking _Yakuza_ lord is answering his goddamn phone.”

Ice pools in Hanzo’s stomach, mixing with the wine there until bile is rising to the back of his throat. He tightens his grip on the wine glass, pressing the phone tighter to his ear.

“I’m sorry?”

“If you’ve done something to him, you sonofabitch, you’ll _be_ sorry--”

Jesse is there, suddenly in front of him, ripping the phone from Hanzo’s hands and spitting rapid fire Spanish into the receiver. Hanzo’s so disoriented, thrown from the words, he doesn’t even get to enjoy the way the language rolls off Jesse’s tongue. Even in anger, the words are beautiful and rolling, his mouth curving around foreign syllables like oil.

Unluckily for Jesse, who is obviously trying to keep the conversation secret, Hanzo understands a handful of languages fluently. 

Including Spanish.

_”You don’t need to come over here, dad, I’m fine! No, he’s just--he’s someone I met. Yeah, no, I_ know _about that, he told me. No, damnit, I’m not a kid anymore! You don’t need to hover over me, I’m doing just fine on my own! Look, I’ll call you back later, okay? I’ll explain it then, I just--I need to talk to Hanzo first. Did you just spit?! Don’t spit when I say his name!”_

There’s a few more sentences, arguments on both ends, before Jesse is ending the call and sighing at the ground. His head hangs heavy on his shoulders, hands on his hips as he tries to breath slow, obviously centering himself.

Hanzo is grateful for the way the staff have seemed to scatter from the private fitting room, giving them their privacy. He’ll make sure they’re handsomely rewarded for their discretion.

But first…

“Your father?” 

Jesse huffs out a breath, lifting his gaze to Hanzo, mouth opening and closing a few times before he speaks.

“Yeah. He’s...Sorry if he was an asshole. He don’t mean nothin’ by it. I’m just--I’m his only kid. He’s protective.”

“You’ve never spoken about your parents before.” To be fair, neither has Hanzo, but that’s because his past is better left where it lays cold in the ground. “Is your mother just as protective?”

Jesse scratches the back of his neck, rolls his shoulders like there’s a pinched muscle there, and gestures towards Hanzo’s glass of wine.

“You mind?”

Hanzo hands it over willingly, watching Jesse practically gulp down the expensive white before he speaks again.

“Don’t have a mom. Or, well, I’m sure I did at one point. But then I got put into foster care, too young to remember it. I grew up with my dad, Gabe, and my pa, Jack. They’ve had me since I was knee high, raised me like one of their own the whole while.”

“They must care deeply for you.”

“They do. I know they do.” Jesse runs an agitated hand through his hair, mussing it from it’s careful style. “Listen, this ain’t--I know I got shit to explain. And I know he’s gonna be expectin’ a call back. He’ll raise hell if I don’t. But not...here? Can we do it in private?”

“Of course,” Hanzo murmurs, pressing a small button on the tablet to his side to summon the tailors back into the room. 

He’s curious, but he’ll respect Jesse’s wishes. After all, the man is offering to tell Hanzo about a part of himself that’s been hidden up until now. He finds himself desperate to know, restless during the rest of the fitting. It’s only the sight of Jesse in temporary suits, ones that will be tailored to fit his body like a second skin, that eases his soul.

His lover is a sight to behold in anything. But dressed in the finest Hanzo can offer, in suits that make even Jesse grin broadly into the mirror and twist this way and that to admire his own body?

Gorgeous beyond measure.

Still, the question remains. For a man to know who he is, for an _American_ to recognize him name and station, Jesse’s father is not a mere civilian. It’s not to say that he’s a threat, though he’d certainly seemed threatening, but it makes Hanzo cautious. Jesse isn’t a spy, Genji made sure to check that thoroughly for him. He’s not a man sent by competitors or conspirators to murder Hanzo in his own bed.

But his parents are another matter entirely.

Jesse’s standing in front of him once more after Hanzo sends off a quick text to Genji, asking him to look into the matter a bit more closely. He looks nervous, gesturing lamely back towards the tailor who is scribbling something on a piece of paper.

“I think we’re done? He said I can get dressed.”

“I’d much prefer if you didn’t.” Hanzo murmurs softly as he rises from his seat, twisting an arm around Jesse’s waist to pull him close for a kiss.

It makes the other man snort, lips breaking into a smile under his own, and the air of anxiety vanishes almost instantly. 

“Ya old perv. Let me put my clothes back on.”

“Mmm, why? Did you not say you would happily show the world the marks I’ve left on you?”

Jesse flushes when he pulls back, scowling at Hanzo’s laughter and smacking indignantly at his hip. 

“Hush, you. I think they need you for...payment n’stuff.”

Hanzo dips his head and walks the short distance to the tailor, who is fully engrossed in his paper. It’s clear he’d been politely ignoring the show of affection and it makes Hanzo smile just a bit more kindly when he finally looks up.

Oh yes, a reward is most certainly in order.

As it turns out, they have two suits that can be easily tailored to Jesse’s form in time for the dinner. Hanzo orders them both after looking them over, one classic black and another a deep gray. He also places an order for a lighter grey, to round out the collection of colors, though Jesse hisses at him as he wanders back over during that part of the conversation.

“I only need one!”

“Not if you intend to accompany me to many events.” Hanzo touches a hand to his lower back. “And I most certainly hope you will.”

“These things ain’t cheap.”

“And I am not lacking money.”

Jesse huffs at him, obviously still uncomfortable, and Hanzo rushes through the rest of the transaction with him hovering behind like a threatening storm cloud. It will take time before Jesse spends money as freely as Hanzo wants him to, but this is still a very big step. The first of many larger purchases.

After all, a man like Jesse will hardly want to be driven around his whole life. He’ll need some form of transportation. Perhaps a flashy car like Genji favors, or maybe even a motorcycle like the other men his age zip around the city on.

Hanzo shivers slightly thinking about Jesse’s powerful thighs straddling some monstrous machine. Yes, perhaps that. 

If Jesse agrees, of course.

They’re in the car before long, sitting in silence as Hanzo idly checks his phone. Nothing from Genji yet, save for a quick “on it” message he’d sent almost immediately after Hanzo’s. As much as he complains, Genji is quick to protect him from any perceived possible threats. A better younger brother, Hanzo could never ask for.

“So…”

Hanzo puts his phone away, giving Jesse his complete attention as the man shifts on the seat next to him. There’s another aborted reach for his nape, like it’s a nervous habit of Jesse’s, before he clenches his fingers into a fist and presses it onto his thigh.

“So.”

“Gabe and Jack are...retired military. Real hardcore too, best I can figure. Growin’ up, I wasn’t allowed to know lots of shit even though I was constantly beggin’ for stories. They stopped when I was about 12, said they wanted me to have a more normal childhood.”

“Ah, I see.” That could possibly explain the immediate knowledge in Gabe’s tone when Hanzo had said his name.

“Yeah, so--they’re protective. And they don’t...exactly know what I’ve been doin’ the past few years?”

“The fighting?”

“Yeah.” Jesse nods, swallows thickly, keeps his gaze on his lap like he has a rehearsed script written there for him. “See, they think I’m Hana’s--the girl I sent the picture of me with?”

“Hana Song. Genji is a fan.”

“Well, don’t that beat all.” Jesse grins at him for a moment. “I’ll see if I can wrangle an autograph.”

“He has one,” Hanzo smiles back, revels in the quiet moment of ease amongst the terse conversation. “A signed pachimari. He was quite excited about it.”

“I bet!” Jesse laughs, the moment dragging on before reality settles in like a hammer, knocking the grin right off his face. “Right, so, they think I’m Hana’s bodyguard. Goin’ round with her. Makin’ good and honesty money doin’ something right.”

“I can understand wanting to hide things from your parents.” Jesse’s head swings around suddenly and Hanzo arches a brow at him. “What? Did you expect I was the perfect, obedient child?”

“Well...yeah. Kinda!”

“Jesse,” Hanzo laughs, reaching out to cup his chin and draw him in for a short and sweet kiss. “I was the eldest child of the clan leader, set to inherit and continue the line. And I am gay. I hid more than you might imagine from my parents' watchful eyes.”

“Right, right, o’course.” Jesse mutters distractedly, shuffling just a bit closer. “Regular bad boy, then.”

“Nothing so dramatic. But I could _be_ bad, if you prefer it.”

Jesse groans, shooting a look towards the front and the driver who is blissfully, and no doubt easily, tuning them out.

“Shit, darlin’, you can’t be _sayin’_ stuff like that to me in public.”

“Are you not exhausted? You’ve had a very...exhausting day.” One glance downwards shows that, no, Jesse isn’t wore out despite Hanzo’s best attempts. “Insatiable boy.”

“For you,” Jesse murmurs quietly, nosing into his throat and sliding a hand across his chest. “Hey--does this car have a partition?”

“It does.”

Hanzo plucks Jesse’s hand off his by the wrist, pressing an apologetic kiss to his palm at the wounded look he receives in return.

“I will not be distracted so easily. If you do not wish to talk about your parents, we do not have to. But do not attempt to seduce me away from the topic, I am far too intelligent to fall for it.”

“Alright, alright.” Jesse all but throws himself back onto his side of the car, and Hanzo immediately wants to pull him in close once more.

But this topic is obviously a sensitive one for Jesse, and the distance may prove to give him some sort of confidence that closeness would deny. 

“Where was I?”

“They believe you are Hana’s bodyguard.”

“Yeah, right, that.” Jesse scrubs a hand through his hair. “I left home about...what, 10 years ago now? Got booted outta basic and didn’t wanna show my face back home so I ran. Traveled all over, just kept lyin’ to my folks until I was lucky enough to get Hana as a cover.”

“Basic?”

Jesse scowls.

“Basic training. Bootcamp for the military. Thought maybe I could be jus’ like them, military and shit. Almost was too. Said I was the best sharpshooter they’d ever had come through the Fort. But I kept gettin’ into brawls with the other idiots who couldn’t keep their mouths shut. They kicked me out.”

“And going home to your fathers afterward was not a possibility in your mind.”

“My dads have a whole fuckin’ wall of medals. Honor and valor and shit, time and time again. So, no, tellin’ them I couldn’t even hack basic wasn’t a real possibility.”

“But you are their son,” Hanzo says quietly, reaching over to lay a hand on Jesse’s thigh, squeezing gently. “Surely they would have understood. Not all in this world are meant for military service. They must know this better than most.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Jesse says hoarsely, swiping at his cheeks with sudden movements. “But I couldn’t--the fuckin’ _look_ on Gabe’s face when I came home and told them I’d been accepted into it was jus’--I couldn’t fuckin’ do it. Couldn’t admit I got booted.”

They sit in silence for a while, Hanzo keeping his hand on Jesse’s thigh to tether the other man as he seemingly gets lost in his thoughts. The car pulls up to the house, idles quietly as the driver waits for a signal that they’re ready to leave. Jesse is still silent, staring down at his lap, shoulders shaking finely as Hanzo’s phone chimes with a message.

He fishes it out, squeezing Jesse’s thigh once more, satisfied when Jesse’s hand lands over his own and squeezes back. One message from Genji, short and simple, but enough to make him grit his teeth.

_Gabriel Reyes-Morrison just booked 2 plane tickets to Hanamura. Should I cancel the flight?_

**No. Not yet.**

_Work fast. It’s a red-eye. He’ll be here tomorrow night._

Wonderful. As though tomorrow was not going to be nerve-wracking enough for Jesse. Perhaps, if he called Satya, she would allow him to come to dinner alone--or cancel it altogether.

“Jesse,” he says quietly, taking in the look on the man’s face when he glances up. “Call your father back. Talk to him.”

“Yeah,” Jesse nods, clearing his throat like emotion still thickens his tongue. “Yeah, I--I need to.”


	5. Chapter 5

Jesse feels hungover by the time he makes it back into his and Hanzo’s shared bedroom. He hasn’t drank more than the wine he’d tossed back at the suit fitting--but stress and exhaustion will wreck a person’s body as badly as alcohol will. Talking Gabe down had been a challenge. The old idiot had already booked flights for him and Jack to come over and save him from some imagined threat.

And in his panic to assure them he was fine and stop the journey, Jesse had told them _everything_. 

Told them all the lies, all the half-truths, told them what he’d been doing in the decade or so since he’d ran scared from his mistakes. Told them about the fighting and meeting Hanzo and how this was the best sort-of-relationship Jesse had ever been in. 

Clenched his fists and told his dad, with a shaky voice and a stomach full of bile, that he might just be in love and he’s so fucking _scared_ he’s gonna fuck it up. 

Gabe had been quiet for too long of the conversation, just listening. It had taken Jack, ever patient and willing to forgive, talking in the background that had given Jesse strength. He’d finally agreed to cancel the flight--for the moment.

_”If you’re serious about this, mijo….I won’t wait long. I’m going to meet this man before the year is up. One way or another.”_

He pauses in the doorway, one hand still wrapped around his phone, the other white-knuckled on the jamb. Hanzo is sitting on the bed, back against the headboard, a tablet in his lap as his eyes scan across the page like he’s reading. He glances up when Jesse clears his throat, eyes softening as he sets the tablet aside and beckons him in close.

“Well?”

“I told’em.” Jesse says, voice still wrecked from his crying and the stress of it all. “Told’em everythin’. About the basic and the fightin’. About you.”

“And?”

He crosses the space between them, hurling his phone onto the covers as he collapses, burying his head in Hanzo’s lap. Gentle hands smooth his hair back, digging into his scalp in a relaxing massage that has him groaning. 

“They wanna meet you. But they weren’t--Gabe wasn’t mad. Said he’d have understood. Think maybe he was a little hurt I hadn’t told him sooner.”

“Perhaps he was,” Hanzo murmurs, petting over his neck and shoulders, pressing into any knots of tension he finds. “It is always better, I have found, to confide in those close to you as opposed to hiding the truth from them.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Jesse lays there for a moment, letting Hanzo gently work the tension from his body, making soft sounds of approval when a particularly tense knot releases under his talented hands. There’s no arousal from his touches, just a warm sense of comfort that eases his roiling stomach and mind. He pets clumsily at Hanzo’s hips, ribs, thighs, anything he can reach in his current position. It’s lazy and half-hearted, muscles lax and unwilling to cooperate. 

But Hanzo chuckles quietly and captures the lobe of his ear between his finger and thumb, tugging gently.

“I’ve warned you about trying to seduce me away from topics.”

“Ain’t tryin’ to seduce you,” Jesse grumbles into Hanzo’s stomach. “Jus’ tryin’ to...I dunno. Say thank you.”

“There is nothing to thank me for. This was a journey you took on your own.”

“Yeah, but you helped. Helped more than you think.”

“And I am glad to be of service.” Hanzo scratches into his beard and Jesse melts, practically purring in approval. 

“Now who’s tryin’ to seduce someone?”

“If you’re aroused, that sounds rather like a problem for _you_. Not anything I’ve done.”

Jesse laughs, bright and carefree, so loudly and suddenly it almost hurts. He can’t stop once he’s started, cheer bubbling up from every open space in his chest. He did it. He actually did it. He told Gabe and Jack what had happened, about all the fuck-ups, and they didn’t kick him out. Didn’t hang up the phone and tell him not to call again.

And now he’s laying in his lover’s lap like some sort of treasured pet, getting all the love and attention he could ever want.

“They really wanna meet you. Soon--but I told’em you’re a busy man. We might be able to delay it.”

“We do not need to,” Hanzo smiles at his confused noise, easing Jesse up until he’s straddling his lap, boneless and all but draped over him like a blanket. “While you talked, I contacted Genji. It is high time he participated in the family business--and I am long overdue for a vacation away from it all.”

“Didn’t think Big Bosses like you got to take vacation.” 

“We often don’t,” Hanzo agrees. “But I find myself...distracted during my work. A new addition to my life, one who I haven’t been properly attending to, has captured my thoughts and distracted me from my responsibilities.”

“Sorry.” Jesse grins into Hanzo’s throat, pressing a kiss there and accepting the reprimanding pinch to his side with a grunt.

“Do not apologize. It is a welcome distraction from the mundane. But I think it best to satiate this new obsession of mine before I start to make mistakes.”

“Hmmm,” Jesse presses in close, so his hum shakes against Hanzo’s pulse, languid and lazy as he strokes careful hands over Hanzo’s broad shoulders. “You wanna satiate yourself, huh?”

“Stop that.” 

He can’t help but laugh at Hanzo’s tone, sharp but wavering, like he’s forcing himself to say no. Jesse’s half tempted to roll his hips, arch back a bit, put on a pretty show. But he’s exhausted, today has been one hell of a rollercoaster, and he’s still staring down the barrel at meeting Hanzo’s scary friend for dinner tomorrow. Best to wait for another day.

No matter how much it makes him wanna whine at being denied.

“Hanzo?”

“Hmm?”

“Can we go to bed?”

Hanzo laughs, clear and crisp, carefully pulling him in for a kiss that stays chaste and gentle despite his best attempts. 

“Of course. You’ve had quite the day. I’ll need to do a few things tomorrow, taking a break means there will be assignments to be given and tasks delegated. I think a good night’s rest will benefit us both.”

“Could think of another thing that’d _benefit_ us too.” Jesse waggles his brow, exaggerated and lascivious.

“Hush.” Hanzo’s hand disappears from his face, only to return clutching a pillow that he smacks into Jesse’s side. “Insatiable fool. Let an old man rest.”

.O.

Hanzo is met, when he steps into the elevator to go up to his office the next day, with the scowling face of his younger brother. Genji allows the elevator to rise for a few floors before stabbing the button to stop it, unhinging the phone so they won’t be interrupted by people trying to help. Hanzo watches it all with a sense of amusement, leaning up against the wall as Genji paces and all but tears at his hair.

“Are you feeling well, Genji? You seem...out of sorts.”

“Hanzo, you cannot be serious right now. Do not _jest_ in a time like this!” He whips his phone out, scrolling through numerous things before shoving it in Hanzo’s face. “Look! Overwatch affiliations, Blackwatch affiliations--Jesse’s parents are the kind of men who could use their connections to tear down our Clan.”

“But would they?” Hanzo pushes the phone away with a sharp smile. “If their son, their treasured only child, would experience heartbreak in the process? Would lose the comfortable life he’s finally found? No, Genji, I am not worried about it.”

Genji is quiet for a moment, gnawing on his thumb nail, before he finally straightens his shoulders and meets Hanzo’s eyes.

“Are you prepared to use Jesse like that?”

Hanzo flinches, shaking his head before he knows it, and holds his hands up like he could physically force the question away.

“I--No! No, of course not! Jesse is not some… _tool_ to be used in negotiations. He is not leverage in a deal. He is...he is simply mine.”

All at once, the fight drains out of Genji. He sags with a weak laugh, hands on his hips as he shakes his head at the floor. Hanzo is still thrown from the question, head spinning as he tries to figure out what in the world just happened.

“Genji?”

“My god. My brother, the ice king of Hanamura, is in _love_! Oh, I thought I would never _live_ to see this day!”

“Stop.” Hanzo can’t help but feel a little childish, swatting at Genji where he’s begun some odd victory dance. “Stop that! If you do not _cease_ , I will--”

“What?” Genji is like an eel, slipping away from his grasping hands. “You’ll what, Hanzo? Tell your boy toy? Jesse could probably kick my ass, it’s a legitimate threat! Oh god, you’ve got a new weapon in your corner!”

A wicked grin makes Hanzo groan even before Genji speaks again.

“And speaking of _weapons_ , how are you keeping up? A young sword is able to be unsheathed more regularly than an old one. If you need help, I know a great Doctor who-- _Hanzo_!

Calmly, without releasing the hold he currently has on Genji’s ear, Hanzo presses the button to start the elevator upwards once more. His brother whines and kicks at him, swatting with weak hands and yelping when Hanzo pinches the lobe viciously. 

“Are you done?” He asks over Genji’s loud cries of injustice.

“Yes! I’m done!” Genji curses at him in their native tongue once he lets go but switches back to English when the doors slide open.

“Hanzo? I’m...happy for you.”

“Good. Then I will hear no complaints when I am on my vacation?”

“Oh, no, I’m going to complain. It’s so much _work_. Why don’t we hire more people to do it?”

“Because it is our duty and our honor.” Hanzo nods to his receptionist, already busy alongside his assistant assigning various duties to different members of his staff. “And because you could do with more responsibility, brother.”

“I have plenty of responsibilities!”

“Checking in on the various bars and brothels we own is hardly a responsibility, Genji. Do not think I am unaware as to why you chose to take over that particular aspect of our business.”

Genji grins, scrubbing a hand over his mouth like he’s remembering something lewd, and Hanzo rolls his eyes as he nudges the office door shut behind him. 

“If you could focus?”

“Why are you even here today?” Genji throws himself into the chair in front of Hanzo’s desk, eyes tracking him as he crosses the room at a more sedate pace. “Aren’t you supposed to be curled up in bed with your cowman, doing things I’d rather _never_ think about my older brother doing?”

“As much as I would love to be,” Hanzo firmly ignores Genji’s dramatic retch, “I have things to attend to. As much as I would like to say the Clan will not fall into ruin during my absence, I cannot be sure of that.”

Genji arches a brow, clearly disbelieving, and Hanzo sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“And Jesse is video chatting with his parents today, talking to them more about what his life has been like since he left home. I thought perhaps it best to give him privacy during this time.”

“The castle is absolutely massive. Could you not have just gone to a different wing to give him privacy?”

“I...did not...think of that.”

“Hanzo,” Genji scowls at him, kicking his foot like he’d rather it connect with Hanzo’s shin than air. “Do not lie to your younger brother.”

“I am...worried. If his fathers know what our clan does, what _I_ do in the name of the clan...will Jesse feel the same way about me? Will he still trust me?”

“Jesse isn’t an idiot,” Genji seems softer now, a slight smile on his lips as he sits correctly and leans forward over the desk to grasp at Hanzo’s forearm. “He can’t possibly be completely unaware of what being a Yakuza leader is about. If he hasn’t left by now, brother? I don’t think one conversation with his parents will change much.”

“Still…”

“No,” Genji waves a hand in the air, relaxing back once more. “No. I won’t allow you to stew in the maybes of the future. Has Jesse told you he’s leaving you? Has he sent you a message telling you he hates every fiber of your being and to never contact him again? Then you have no reason to worry.”

“Dramatics _aside_.” Hanzo grumbles, taking his phone out and setting it on his desk before glaring at Genji. “Shouldn’t you be elsewhere? Like preparing to take over leadership of the clan in my absence?”

Genji rolls his eyes and grumbles but gets up, tossing goodbyes and a few more teasing words over his shoulder before he slams Hanzo’s office door shut so hard it rattles the glass pane inside. Hanzo grits his teeth, reminds himself that Genji only does half of what he does because he _knows_ it will get a rise out of Hanzo, and sets about his work. 

He’s halfway through his emails, letting everyone know what’s going on and checking to ensure everyone has their assignments in his absence, when his phone chimes.

It’s a now familiar sound, the lonesome whistle straight out of an old American cowboy film, and it makes Hanzo smile even as he reaches for the device. He was normally against personalizing his phone, doing anything to such a fragile object--one that could be lost or taken and used against him--was asking for trouble, but he couldn’t resist. Not after the way Jesse had smiled when he’d found it in the options for text tones and eagerly asked to have it assigned to him.

The soft memories are all but shattered when Hanzo thumbs open the message.

It’s a picture, one that’s already loaded up and requires no preview, of Jesse’s stomach. Well, there’s a bit of his chest and shirt in it as well, the material rucked up under his arms, and his hand is splayed low, fingers tangled in the thick hair underneath his belly button. One single line of text sits below it, a tease and a temptation.

_”How long until you’re back home?”_

Hanzo hisses out a breath between clenched teeth, eyes greedily taking in the picture a few more times before he remembers Jesse likely expects some sort of reply. He thinks for a moment, blank on words that would suit, before simply typing back the word that keeps repeating endlessly in his mind.

**Delicious.**

There’s a moment of silence, one that Hanzo uses to cross the room and lock his door. He does not know what Jesse has planned but it...intrigues him. And makes him aware that he is at work, a place he’s typically reachable at all times.

His assistant would think nothing of knocking once before entering to deliver news. Hanzo is already planning on giving her a very nice bonus for all her help during his vacation--he does not want to have to add onto it in apology for his own lewd behavior in a place of business.

It’s not until he’s just barely settled in his chair, relaxing back, that his phone chimes again.

Not a picture, but a simple message.

That makes Hanzo’s heart jump into his throat.

_”You busy right now?_

Curious, Hanzo doesn’t think before he lifts the phone to his ear, dial tone already going. He’s well within his rights to call and clearly he’s not interrupting anything Jesse is doing. He has no idea what will meet his ears when Jesse finally picks up, but he certainly doesn’t expect the _moan_ that tumbles down the line.

Rough and unrestrained and so completely tempting Hanzo finds himself echoing it softly. 

“What are you doing?”

“Reckon you might be bored, sortin’ through all those papers. Figured I might give you somethin’ to brighten your day.”

“Jesse,” Hanzo leans back in his chair, shoving his hair back with a restless hand. “Aren’t you supposed to be talking to your parents?”

There’s a huff on the other end, like Jesse is a child caught in a particularly bad lie, and a bit of whine in his voice when he speaks once more.

“I did talk to ‘em! For hours! They had to go to some appointment or something--Jack’s always had shit eyesight and it ain’t gettin’ better with age. So I had some free time and decided to--”

“To what?” Hanzo slides a hand down his chest, tempting and teasing but not reaching for his cock just yet. “To misbehave?”

“I’m bein’ a good boy. Jus’...I miss you, is all. Y’can’t just tell me you’re gonna be home with me for two weeks and then go into the office the next day. Drives a man mad waitin’ like this.”

“So what you define as behaving includes sending me illicit pictures and messages?”

“Oh, sugar,” Jesse’s voice drops, impossibly, grating and harsh and Hanzo’s cock twitches in response. “Those weren’t illicit. You want me to send you illicit stuff, trust me, what I’m doin’ now would blow that little selfie out the water.”

“And just _what_ are you doing?”

There’s a laugh, filthy and secretive, and another moan that makes Hanzo quickly check to ensure the door is actually locked. This is getting to be too much almost too fast and while he’s not intending to stop the momentum, only one of them has to worry about decorum.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I _asked_ , did I not?” This is a new side to Jesse, confidant and teasing.

Hanzo adores it.

“Sure did,” there’s the muffled shuffling of fabric and then Jesse groans, indulgent and lazy. “I’m in bed. _Our_ bed. Stretched out and relaxin’.”

“Surely that’s not all you’re doing. Our bed is opulent,” Hanzo shivers a bit at the shared possession, that Jesse thinks of something in the home as _theirs_ , “but not worth all the noise you’re making.”

“Dunno about that. Have you ever felt these sheets on your bare skin? S’close to heaven.”

“So you’re naked.”

Hanzo feels a bit like a dog, eager and begging for every single scrap of information Jesse is willing to give him to help him paint what is becoming a _very_ appealing mental picture. The shift in power, something that typically annoys him, makes him feel off-kilter, just makes him thicken more beneath his dress pants. 

“Mmm, yeah, sure am, darlin’. Takes a bit more flexibility than I’ve got to get my fingers inside myself if I’m not stripped bare.”

Hanzo’s palm grinds into his cock then, feeling it kick beneath the fabric as he groans, teeth gritting together to keep his volume low. 

“Needy thing.”

“Was thinkin’ about your cock. Can’t wait to have it inside me, sugar. I think you’re gonna stretch me open real nice, better than any fingers could. But, like I said, it’s been a while. Jus’ figured I’d make it easier on myself and start working myself open for you.”

“I’ll be here a while.” Hanzo spits the words, hating the truth in them and, for once, hating the responsibilities his birthright shoves upon him. “I...I cannot simply leave, much as I want. You don’t need to--”

“Oh, naw, I understand.” Jesse does something that makes him whine into the phone and Hanzo’s hands shake as he starts to tear at his button and zipper. “But I figure this way, might jus’ give you a little incentive to make it fast? I know you got important stuff to do--big boss man that ya are--but if I can get you home any quicker…”

“I want to hear you come.” Hanzo murmurs, breathing catching and choking the words in his throat as his hand finally wraps around his cock, blood hot and leaking.

“Ain’t...ain’t gonna take much. _Shit_ , I didn’t think hearin’ you would get me worked up so fast.” There’s a fumble, static across the connection, and when Jesse speaks again there’s the distinct echo of a phone put on speaker. “Jus’...jus’ keep talkin’ to me, Hanzo.”

“You drive me absolutely _mad_ ,” Hanzo groans, “I’m in my office with my hand wrapped around my cock because you drive me to such desperation, Jesse. I want to shun my responsibilities, ignore everyone else and focus all my attention on you. Ever since that night, when I first saw you, I wanted you in my bed and under me, wanted to take you for my own.”

“Y’have me.” Jesse swallows, the words choked and harsh. “I’m yours, Hanzo, can’t--can’t imagine havin’ anyone else. Don’t _want_ no one else when I’m with you.”

“ _Good_ ,” Hanzo leans back in his chair, feet planted into the floor so he can thrust up into his hand.

He wishes Jesse were here. Wishes the man was sprawled across his lap like he so enjoys doing, desperate and filthy, his cock driving up into the heat of his body instead of the paltry satisfaction his hand offers. Wishes that he were with Jesse, tangled in their sheets, driving him back into the bed with thrusts that would have both of them aching the next day. 

“Are you--”

“Yeah, y-yeah, I’m damn close.” Jesse’s stuttering, each word an effort, and Hanzo feels the same as pre-come spurts across his knuckles. “I wish--fuck, I wish it were you. Wanna come on your cock, have you split me open so good no one else is ever gonna be enough for me.”

“Soon,” Hanzo croons, a promise that he will fulfill if he does nothing else in his life. “So soon, Jesse. You’re going to be so beautiful for me, going to take me so perfectly. I’m never going to want another in my bed once I’ve had you.”

Everything else Hanzo says isn’t in English. He can’t help it, losing control of himself--the situation and the temptation far too great to keep all his wits about him. He barely has the forethought to tip his cock towards himself as he spills, spurting up onto his clothes and thankfully not on his desk.

Speaking his second language in this state is nearly impossible. Jesse has a way of stealing his entire mind and soul in moments like this.

He hears Jesse curse, something filthy and brutal, and then there’s a shout of Hanzo’s name and breathless gasps for air. He sags in his chair, pressing the phone to the side of his head so tightly it hurts, desperate to catch every little whine and whimper Jesse lets out as he eases back down to Earth. Words are hard, now, almost more difficult than they were moments ago, and it takes Hanzo two tries to get his sentence to come out in English.

“Jesse? Are you alright?”

There’s a long moment where all Hanzo listens to is the sound of Jesse’s breathing, still harsh but regulating. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m--Hanzo?”

“Yes?”

“I _really_ like hearin’ ya speak Japanese.”

Hanzo can’t help but burst into laughter. The absurdity of it all, sitting in his office chair with all the power at his fingertips, come soaking into his shirt as he listens to his treasured pet purr sappy words into his ear. He’s never felt more light, more amused, and it takes him longer than he’d like to admit to quiet his amusement. When he does, he sighs, cheeks aching and eyes watering from the burst.

“I shall endeavor to do it more often. Perhaps I could even teach you some.”

“I’d like that.” A yawn cuts off whatever else Jesse was going to say and Hanzo smiles fondly.

“You have time for a nap, if you’d like, before I will return home to prepare for the dinner.”

“Think I just might do that. Remind me to call and check on my dad’s before we head out tonight?”

“Of course. I shall see you soon, Jesse.”

“Not soon enough, darlin’.” Jesse hums, happy and languid and sated.

.O.

Hanzo’s just finishing up getting ready, making tiny adjustments to his clothes that likely won’t matter as Satya will start tugging and pushing them into perfect alignment the moment they meet, when Jesse ambles back into the room. His phone is nowhere to be seen, but there’s a crease to his brow that has Hanzo pausing, immediately turning his attention over.

“Jesse? Is something the matter, has something happened?”

“Ah...well, maybe. Kinda? I dunno…”

“Jesse,” Hanzo reaches out for him, pulls him in close even as one hand slides down to grip his phone within his pocket. “Do I need to tell Satya we are unable to come? What’s wrong?”

“It’s just…” Jesse blows out a breath, fidgets in place under Hanzo’s stare.

He busies himself with tying Jesse’s tie, making sure it lays flat and neat against his chest to give Jesse some strength. Jesse always does seem to be a little less careful with his words when he’s not staring directly at him, he hopes the lack of eye contact will draw out his problems. Tonight is supposed to be a joyous occasion and Hanzo is unwilling to let it be ruined if he can, in any way, provide a solution.

“I jus’ got off the phone with Gabe.”

“And?”

“They got back from the appointment and--” Jesse huffs out another breath, reaches up to capture Hanzo’s hands as they stray back to his tie. “Hey, quit fiddlin’ with me.”

“Very well.”

Hanzo waits, patient as ever, though a growing worry builds in his chest. Perhaps he was wrong, perhaps Gabe had thought more on it--thought more on the subject and decided he wouldn’t stand for his son dating a Yakuza lord. Perhaps they’d made sweet promises, used their parental influence to point out the inevitable trouble Jesse would find himself in with such connections. 

They’re within their rights to do so, even if the thought makes rage burn white hot in the back of his mind.

Jesse opens his mouth a few times, frowns like the words escape him, and there’s a nasty curse in Spanish before he finally speaks.

“Jack’s eyes are going bad. Like--glasses and medicine ain’t gonna cut it anymore bad. There’s a surgery but--medical care in the US is fuckin’ shit on a good day and the VA only covers so much and they both get good checks from all the shit they did while they were in service but it still probably won’t be enough. Gabe says not to worry but how can I _not_ worry when Pa is about to go fuckin’ blind and I’m miles away and--”

“Jesse.” Hanzo lays a hand over his mouth to stop the sudden explosion of words, tugging Jesse in and cradling the man’s head into his shoulder.

It’s partly to comfort, partly to hide his own growing grin. The moment isn’t appropriate, the _smile_ isn’t appropriate, but he can’t help it. Hanzo has always been opportunistic, it will hardly change now, and this is _perfect_.

“Do not worry. Inform your fathers I will cover the cost of everything. Surgery and recovery, any vision aids he might need. Nothing but the best.”

“Hanzo--”

“Hush.” Hanzo strokes a hand up and down Jesse’s back, not allowing him to pull away when he jerks. “I won’t hear an argument. Allow me to do this for you, for your family. If it will satiate their worries, I can have the money transferred into an account in your name. For all they know, _you_ will cover the cost of it all.”

“They know I don’t have that kinda money.” Jesse mumbles, but Hanzo feels his face heat where it’s pressed in close to his cheek. 

“Your fathers are not fools. They will not turn down the offer, Jesse.”

“Don’t think you understand how damn stubborn they both are.”

“Then let them think it a gift.” Hanzo leans back, cups Jesse’s cheek in his hand. “They could have easily convinced you to come home. Begged you to leave me. They have done no such thing and thus, this is the least I can do in return.”

“You barely know ‘em.” Jesse whispers, eyes wide and sparkling and-- _yes_.

_That_ is the look Hanzo has desired all along. The look of devotion and trust and affection that he’s wanted since the first time he offered to provide for Jesse. The knowledge shining in Jesse’s eyes that not only _could_ Hanzo, he _would_. 

“I know the man they have raised. That is enough proof of their good hearts and deservedness of such a gift.”

“I could...I’ll call ‘em in the mornin’. Tell’em about it then.”

“Of course. Though in medical situations, sooner is always better.” Hanzo smoothes his hands along Jesse’s shoulders, tugging minutely at his suit jacket. “But I will not rush you. Take your time.” 

Jesse fumbles about for a bit, obviously still out of sorts, and Hanzo gives him his privacy by checking his phone. Everything is going alright, so far, his assistant has confirmed everyone has been set their tasks. His receptionist has sent a small message saying Genji is in his office doing...something. She’s been barred from entering apparently. Hanzo resolves himself not to worry about it and sends her a message to do the same and retire for the day, preferably while turning all the lights off in the building and leaving Genji to do his “something” in the darkness.

There’s also a message from Satya that drips sarcasm and has Hanzo gritting his teeth so hard his jaw creaks.

_I hope you do not mind, but Amelie has decided to join us for dinner. She was merely a flight away and is eager to meet your new acquaintance._

Hanzo would be bereft without Satya’s understanding and calm friendship but there are times, like now, he would have preferred to never have met her. It’s a temptation to not tell Jesse, to leave that particular detail out so as to not make him more nervous than he already is.

But that would be akin to throwing him into a lion’s den without a stitch of clothing and cruel, at the very least.

“Ah, Jesse?” His quiet voice makes Jesse look around from where he’d been bent to dust--like imaginary--marks from his shoes.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“Satya contacted me. Our shared friend Amelie will also be joining us for dinner tonight.”

Jesse straightens, scrubs a hand through his hair despite having slaved over it’s meticulous style for at least half an hour before. He looks nervous, but there’s a set to his broad shoulders and a clench to his jaw that tells Hanzo he won’t be bowing out of the meeting.

“Well, more th’ merrier then! We better get to gettin’, don’t wanna keep two ladies waitin’ on us.”

“Good things come to those who wait,” Hanzo grumbles, “though they deserve no such things.”

“C’mon, Hanzo, those are yer friends.” Jesse’s accent has thickened, a sure sign he’s stressed despite the forced levity in his tone. “Surely they ain’t the devils you’re makin’ ‘em out to be.”

“We shall see.” Hanzo mutters, praying against hope that they will both be polite, if not friendly towards his beau.


	6. Chapter 6

“Hanzo, it has been too long.” Amelie greets him, eyes sharp and missing nothing as they meet in the foyer of the restaurant.

Hanzo almost pulls away from the embrace she steps forward to offer, wanting to hover near Jesse--for protection if nothing else. He’s glad he doesn’t, when she stays in close after they exchange quick kisses on the cheeks.

“He’s incredibly handsome, mon cher. A bit American for my tastes--but then, our tastes have never been alike.”

He fights down a flush at her whispered words, nodding to thank her before stepping back to greet Satya. She doesn’t come in for an embrace or kisses, but inclines her head at his bow with a sparkling look in her bright eyes and a smile on her face.

“They are readying our table, Amelie’s addition was a bit last moment--but nothing they cannot accommodate.”

“Of course.”

Fantastic. Which means Jesse has no silverware to fiddle with, no table between him and the ladies as they meet for the first time. Perhaps it is for the best, as he stands tall and strong, cutting a gorgeous figure in the mood lighting of the restaurant. 

Hanzo is _proud_ of how his man looks. He relishes the opportunity to show every bit of him off that he can.

“Satya, Amelie, allow me to introduce Jesse McCree. He is a…” Hanzo trails off for a moment, something Satya doesn’t miss if the arch to her brow is any indication.

Damn. He hadn’t thought to ask Jesse how he’d like to be introduced. They haven’t actually discussed the particulars of their relationship yet, past Hanzo spoiling Jesse rotten and receiving vast amounts of pleasure in return. 

No matter.

“Jesse is a treasured, intimate friend of mine.” A bit on the nose, but the flush on Jesse’s cheeks is more than worth it. “Jesse, I would like you to meet Satya Vaswani and Amelie Lacroix, my closest of friends.”

“Pleasure t’ meet you both.” Jesse isn’t wearing a hat, but he reaches up to pinch an imaginary brim and tips his head anyhow with a blinding grin. “Hanzo’s told me a bit, but I woulda scrubbed up better if I’d have known we were havin’ dinner with such beauties.”

“Oh, he’s a charmer.” Amelie laughs, polite and not amused, but she offers her hand for Jesse to bend low and brush a kiss against her knuckles.

Hanzo has seen her literally _yank_ her hand away from men she deemed unworthy. This is a good sign.

Satya, to his shock, offers her hand as well. Hanzo _had_ thought to warn Jesse about her aversion to touch and melts a bit at how gently he takes it and doesn’t make contact with his lips as he bends low once more. She seems pleased, but thankfully there isn’t time for more small talk as a hostess appears near his elbow and cheerfully informs them their table is ready. 

They’re settled without fanfare and Hanzo smiles when Jesse moves to join him in pulling out Satya and Amelie’s chairs for them. It’s part chivalry, part self-preservation. Pulling out their chairs forces them to sit next to each other, not to sit on either side of Jesse and trap him away from Hanzo.

He is not blind to their tricks, nor is Satya blind to his--as she chuckles and pats his shoulder a bit firmer than necessary as she sits. 

Taking their own seats takes moments, and Hanzo squeezes Jesse’s knee under the table for fortitude. His or Jesse’s, he’s still unsure.

“So,” Amelie wastes no time once their wine has been served, the bottles selected beforehand. “How did you and Hanzo meet, Jesse? Satya has been told, but I have not.”

Hanzo glares at her over the rim of his glass, which she ignores, focused on Jesse. This is a trick, of sorts, but not a harmful one. She’s testing to see if Jesse will tell the same story Hanzo told to Satya. Useful in business, to see if someone will paint themselves in a different light by changing up the details. 

But it has no place among friends.

“Well, he kinda saved my behind, if you’ll pardon the expression, ma’am.” Jesse takes a small sip of his wine, obviously not his drink of choice as he swallows quickly. “I was gettin’ pushed into throwin’ the big fight I had that night. The owner had some nasty plans he was cookin’ up, bettin’ on his own fights to get more money than he rightfully should’ve had. Hanzo stepped in and stopped him right quick. Wound up winnin’ the fight fair’n’square--though that coulda been cause my good luck charm was watchin’.”

“You watched a fight?” Satya asks, chin perched on her hand as she smiles across the table. “It is not your typical entertainment choice, Hanzo.”

“It was a request.” He supplies, laying a gentle hand on Jesse’s where it sits on the table. “And one I was happy to acquiesce to.”

“A fine first meeting then. But, tell me, how does one go from a meeting in a fight club to living together?” Amelie’s tone is even, but there’s suspicion in her eyes. “It seems very...quick, non?”

She’s being protective. Many have tried to get into Hanzo’s bed as a way to win favor before. He reminds himself of this even as he’s half tempted to interrupt.

If Jesse stays with him as Hanzo hopes he will, this will not be the only time he meets Amelie and Satya. Best he learn to deal with them now.

“You’re not wrong. It was pretty quick. I was exhausted after the fight and Hanzo was nice enough to treat me t’ dinner. He learned where I was stayin’--a motel that wasn’t in the best of shape or neighborhood--and offered to let me sleep at the castle for the night. And I guess I just...never left.”

“And why would you.” Satya says, tone level and even. “If Hanzo spoils you as he spoils all his close friends, there’s little reason to leave.”

“Well, I don’t jus’ stay for that stuff.” Jesse’s cheeks are flushed and his leg is bouncing under the table, shaking the cloth cover. “I mean--don’t get me wrong, I appreciate all Hanzo does for me, but I don’t need it. I jus’ like bein’ around him, all that fancy stuff don’t matter.”

“Which is why you fight me so hard on every gift I try to give?” Hanzo says wryly, sliding a hand onto Jesse’s thigh to stop the movement.

Jesse’s attention turns to him, his smile soft, and his hand drifts down to clasp over Hanzo’s own.

“I don’t need no gifts. Bein’ with you’s enough of a gift for me.”

“How sweet. I may vomit.” Amelie says airly, waving a hand. “Oh, look, and just in time to place our order. What luck.”

Hanzo retort is interrupted by the sudden presence at his elbow, pad and paper in hand, though he keeps his response ready. Amelie means no offense by her words, but their friendship is largely based upon gentle insults and he won’t let that one go without returning fire.

He orders his usual, along with Amelie and Satya, and leans over to help Jesse when the man looks lost. The menu is in English, which helps, but it looks like Jesse is a little overwhelmed with the choices.

Or perhaps he’s thinking far too hard about the fact there are no prices next to anything.

Thankfully, he’s not the only one looking out for Jesse.

“Might I suggest a steak, Jesse?” Satya says, with a tap to the menu back. “While I don’t personally consume meat, I’ve heard very good things about the quality served here.”

Jesse hesitates for a moment, lowering the menu with an apologetic glance at the waiter.

“You sure? If you don’t eat meat, I don’t wanna sit here chowin’ down on some a foot away from you.”

“Kind of you,” Satya smiles, something soft in it that nearly makes Hanzo grin with delight. “But no, do not concern yourself. Order whatever you would like.”

“Well, that sounds perfect then. Medium-rare, please.” He says, placing the menu on the table with an air of finality and turning to the waiter. “And...uh...whatever sort of side you think goes best with it?”

“Of course,” the waiter doesn’t scoff at Jesse’s accent or shoot him a dirty look, something that immediately earns Hanzo’s respect.

Perhaps he will visit this place more frequently, especially if Jesse likes the food he receives. Once the waiter disappears with their order, he refocuses on Amelie, who’s looking at her phone with a soft smile. Jesse and Satya are talking quietly off to his side, Jesse politely inquiring about her reasons to abstain from meat and Satya explaining, and now is the perfect opportunity to strike.

“Amelie, forgive my rudeness.” Her brow twitches minutely and Hanzo knows he has her. “I’ve completely forgotten to ask after your own lovers. How are they? Is Emily still working on the next novel in her series?”

Amelie’s face goes carefully flat and she places her phone on the table without a sound. Hanzo resist the urge to grin like a fool, keeping a perfectly neutral expression of polite interest as she levels a glare across the table at him.

“They are fine. She is. Thank you for asking.”

Satya notices the ribbing immediately, delicately swirling her wine in the glass as she turns her attention to them. She’s not nearly as vicious as Hanzo, though she enjoys the teasing as well, and Hanzo relishes the look of amusement on her face.

“And Lena? She was testing the new fighter planes, was she not? Did she enjoy the task?”

“She did.”

“It has been far too long since we’ve seen them,” Satya muses, “and now that Hanzo has a lover as well, perhaps it is time for a gathering so they can all meet.”

“I’m a little out of the loop, but always happy to meet new people!” Jesse enthuses, Hanzo turning to him with a small smile.

“Amelie’s lovers, Emily and Lena, are wonderful women. I think you’d get along nicely with them both.”

“They are also busy.” Amelie’s tone brooks no arguments and her smile is as cold as ice. “And this close to the holiday season, I’m afraid a meeting would be impossible. Perhaps in the new year.”

“Or perhaps on the new year celebration.” Satya continues the teasing longer than Hanzo would, unaware or unafraid of Amelie’s wrath. “Hanzo, you used to throw the most elegant of celebrations to ring in the oncoming year. Perhaps this year that could happen once more? No better atmosphere to meet new friends than a party.”

“You threw parties?” Jesse asks incredulously, laughing a bit at Hanzo’s pout.

Why everyone in the world seems to think him incapable of merriment, he will never know. Despite Genji’s numerous attempts to explain it to him--often in loud and insulting ways.

“Oh, the best.” Amelie has seen the opening and focused on it like a sniper on a target. “Grand affairs to rival any others. He has a knack for it, or at least for hiring people who do. I can only _imagine_ the affair your wedding would be.”

The quiet that drops onto the table at her words is exactly what Amelie wanted and precisely what Hanzo did _not_. He feels Jesse stiffen next to him, nervous energy filling the air, and wants desperately to drain his wineglass entirely. But Amelie is like a shark and there is blood in the water and Hanzo is not about to lose this battle.

He fakes a laugh, fingers around the stem of his wineglass as he squeezes Jesse’s leg with his free hand.

“I think it would be in very poor taste indeed to be married before you, Amelie, given that you’ve been with your lovers far longer. But, if you like, I would be happy to plan _your_ wedding.”

Amelie scowls, shifting it between Hanzo’s grin and Satya’s tinkling laughter, before focusing it on Jesse.

“That is enough talk of weddings, no? Let us move to a more pressing matter--Christmas. Jesse, are you returning to spend it with family in America? Or are you staying in Hanamura?”

“Well, ain’t sure yet!” Jesse takes the question, and abrupt change in subject, in stride. “My parents wanna come over here, so I’m thinkin’ around then might be the perfect time to do it. But my pa needs some medical work done first, so I might just hop a flight back home.”

“And leave Hanzo alone for your first holiday together?” Amelie smiles while Hanzo now fights the urge to scowl. “Simply unacceptable. Between the three of us, we have the best connections in all fields. Surely he could receive the medical care here, perhaps even recover in the opulence that is Shimada Castle.”

“Yes,” Hanzo murmurs tightly, “and if they cannot travel in public planes, perhaps Lena could fly them over. She does still do private flights, correct?”

.O.

“Boy howdy, you weren’t kiddin’ about them bein’ scary.” Jesse flops back onto the seat the moment they’re in the car, practically deflating. “I don’t think I’ve had a dinner that tense since I came out to my dads.”

“Apologies.” Hanzo murmurs, gesturing for the driver to go once he sees Satya and Amelie’s cars leave the lot. “It was not my intention for the experience to be unpleasant.”

“Naw, it’s okay.” Jesse works at the knot of his tie, untangling the fabric to leave it loose around his neck. “You just seemed upset sometimes--but hell, so did Amelie. Satya was the only one who got out of firing range.”

“Satya is more vicious in her rebuttals,” Hanzo admits lowly, prompting a laugh from Jesse.

He looks good as he continues to systematically dismantle his suit. The ends of the tie flop against his chest as he undoes the first few buttons of his shirt, jacket already undone and splayed open. Hanzo loses himself for a moment, just staring, before he realizes the gaze is being returned. When he glances up, jerking his eyes almost guiltily from Jesse’s chest to his face, there’s a smile on Jesse’s mouth and a spark in his eyes.

“See somethin’ you like, Hanzo?”

“Indeed,” Hanzo murmurs, reaching for the panel at his side and watching Jesse’s gaze dart to the slowly rising partition. “You know...the drive from the restaurant to our home is lengthy. And could be made more so by a simple request to take a longer route.”

“Is that so?” Jesse purrs, confidence in his movements as he shuffles closer. “Any particular reason you’re wantin’ to take the long way home?

This sort of teasing is fun. Hanzo feels young again in moments like this, the stress of his life and upbringing fading away until it is only he and Jesse and the heat between them. Jesse even seems happier in times like this, where he seems to forget his insecurities and concerns in their relationship and focuses simply on having fun.

It takes work of a moment to buzz up to the driver, Hanzo keeping his voice level as he asks him to take the longer route. It doesn’t even occur to him to remember that Jesse likes hearing him speaking Japanese until he’s finished the call and accosted by Jesse’s hands suddenly _everywhere_.

“So fuckin’ hot,” he mutters, lips already seeking and finding the sensitive areas of Hanzo’s throat. “God, I love it.”

“It’s just a language.” Hanzo laughs, but splays his body wider so Jesse’s wandering hands can go anywhere they please.

“Yeah, but it sounds so damn good when I hear ya speak it. All commandin’ and in charge.”

“Sounds like you’re developing quite the fixation.” Hanzo lifts Jesse’s head by his hair, pulling gently until their lips are mere inches from each other.

He breathes out an endearment, a gentle one in his native tongue, and Jesse’s pupils dilate before he surges forward for a kiss. It’s messy and unrestrained, Jesse all but shoving Hanzo against the far door in his enthusiasm, and it’s _perfect_. It makes total sense, Jesse with his suit half undone and aggressing on Hanzo who’s still buttoned up perfect.

It’s _wonderful_.

“You bewitch me.” Hanzo murmurs when they finally part for air, Jesse diving back down to fumble at the buttons on his shirt while his mouth is busy trying to suck marks into the pale skin of Hanzo’s throat.

“You think _I’m_ somethin’,” Jesse’s words are harsh, breathed out against his pulse, “you oughta see what you do to me, darlin’. Drive me up a goddamn wall, got me clawin’ my own hair out dyin’ to touch you.”

“Come here.” Hanzo seizes him by the shoulders, yanks until Jesse’s is sprawled over his lap and grinding down against him.

It’s all a mess, a flurry of activity, both of them rushing to touch and be touched in return. Hanzo feels wild, out of control, more so than he can ever remember being. Perhaps it’s the levity of Amelie and Satya, two notoriously picky women, liking Jesse, perhaps it’s the way he’s never had a lover quite so _eager_. Either way, it makes for a dangerously explosive cocktail that he has no intention of snuffing out.

“I wanna--” Jesse makes an aborted move, like he’s going to slide down between Hanzo’s legs, before he’s caught up by Hanzo’s grip on his hair.

“No. Like this. Could you come like this?” Hanzo muses, pulling Jesse’s head backwards until he can sink his teeth into the wildly thumping beat under his throat. “Could you, Jesse?”

“Fuck, I-- _yeah_.” Jesse goes boneless atop him, hips rolling forward into Hanzo, hands clenching and unclenching uselessly on his shoulders. “Yeah, if you jus’--if we keep goin’--”

“ _Perfect_.” 

Hanzo’s agitated with his own body, no more than half-hard due to the earlier orgasm in his office, but it’s a side note to the main act. Jesse is gorgeous atop him, all languid pleasure-seeking and desperate motions. There’s a delicate level of power play at work here and Hanzo is loathe to stop it.

He likes having Jesse at his mercy.

“Haven’t felt like this since I was a kid.” Jesse groans, one hand bracing on Hanzo’s knee as he leans back, his other cupping around the bulge of his cock.

He’s going to ruin his dress pants. Hanzo couldn’t care less.

“Did you often have moments like this in your youth? Huddled together with older men in the backs of cars?” Hanzo can’t help but tease, thumb rubbing Jesse’s hip through his shirt in small circles.

Jesse scowls at him, but it’s lost in a moment when his hips buck forwards and a moan tears itself free of his throat. Hanzo guides him close with a hand on his chin, dropping it once they’re kissing to place over the one Jesse is grinding against. He pushes down, tempting and waiting for a reaction, and gets it nearly instantly. Jesse groans against his mouth, teeth bared as he shoves forward, eagerly seeking the pressure.

His movements are becoming sloppy, more about need than about finesse, and Hanzo grins into their kiss.

“Are you close? So fast, just from this?”

“You look….real fuckin’ good in a suit.” Jesse breathes the words into his mouth, against his smile. “Good enough to eat. Wanted this since we were back home.”

“You’ve waited long, then. And so patiently.” Hanzo grinds his palm down, giving Jesse a firm surface to roll his hips against, and feels the hand under his clench like Jesse’s digging his fingers in for a tighter hold. “You certainly deserve a reward.”

It’s amazing to watch Jesse come. It honors Hanzo that he gets to bear witness to it each time it happens. He comes in small increments, movements speeding up, sloppy and desperate, eyes fluttering before they drop shut. His mouth hangs open, lips slick with his own spit, and his face goes slack for a split second before screwing up tight.

“ _Gorgeous_ ,” Hanzo breathes.

Jesse can likely not hear him, no doubt only hearing the blood rushing through his ear as he shakes and shudders atop him. But the words rings true anyhow and Hanzo coaxes him through it, palm moving in small circles, eyes locked on Jesse’s face. 

“I’m so tired,” Jesse whines into his shoulder in the aftermath, heavy atop his body and limp with exhaustion.

“A bath and then perhaps bed when we return home.” Hanzo says softly, brushing Jesse’s hair back from his temples. “It has been a rather taxing day for you. And we have nothing of importance to do in the upcoming days. I think we can end this night early.”

“You spoil me.”

Hanzo grins, presses a kiss to the side of Jesse’s head.

“I certainly try to.”

.O.

The first few days of Hanzo’s vacation pass without much fanfare. It’s as though, in the presence of suddenly less responsibility, his body has all but collapsed into itself. He and Jesse spend much of the first day in bed, food being brought at intervals to ensure they don’t waste away, a quick moment out for a shared shower. Hanzo sleeps, deeper and more comfortable than he’s used to, Jesse curled into his side with his face stuck firmly into his throat. 

They don’t have sex, to his mild disappointment. There’s intimacy, of course, Hanzo spreading Jesse open on careful fingers, wrapping a gentle but firm hand around his cock to coax him to orgasm. Jesse waking him up with lips wrapped tight around his cock, pleasure buzzing under his skin before he’s even fully conscious.

Hanzo wants _more_ , wants it all, but is content to let Jesse set the pace. It’s not until the fourth day, the morning after a slightly more exciting night--when Genji joined them for dinner to complain about his newfound work and drink half the sake on the table--that true excitement appears.

Though perhaps excitement is not the best word for the emotion that roils in Hanzo’s stomach as Jesse fidgets in front of him.

“So, I talked to m’ folks last night. Pa’s kinda accepted that surgery is the best option and all that...and I mighta...well, you didn’t seem all that opposed when Amelie suggested they come stay here for the recovery?”

Hanzo hums, noncommittal but listening closely, watching as Jesse starts to gestures broadly with his hands as he speaks. It’s a nervous tic, one that would not suit him well in the cut-throat world Hanzo lives in.

But Jesse can keep a remarkable poker face in other scenarios, so he can abide the adorable flaw.

“So I was thinkin’--and I done looked into it so I’m not goin’ at this half-cocked--maybe we could...schedule the surgery and then they’d be here over Christmas? I know it’s only a couple weeks away an’ I know it’d be sort of an imposition and don’t tell me yes if you’re not wantin’ it because I want you to be honest with me and--”

“Jesse.” Hanzo holds up a hand to stop the nervous flow of words, a smile curving his mouth against his will. “Your plan is fine. In truth, I have looked into it myself and the doctors and surgeons in question that would be best for the surgery are in debt to the Shimada Clan. It would be incredibly simple for me to schedule it all and arrange for the details.”

It pays, occasionally, to make investments. Hanzo has put numerous young Doctors and other professionals through the necessary training to garner the debts he’s owed. A long game, perhaps, but one that has paid off in many ways.

As much as, he thinks, doing this for Jesse’s parents will. 

It is unfortunate he won’t have Jesse all to himself over the holidays, but Christmas is more important to Americans like Jesse than Hanzo himself. And, if he’s understood the traditions correctly, being around family is one of the staples of said holiday. 

Not to mention meeting Jesse’s parents on his own home turf, so to speak, would give him considerable advantage if they decided to become less than friendly. 

Hanzo would never hurt people so close to Jesse’s heart. But they both seem like intelligent men and any battles fought on familiar ground are easier, in many ways.

Jesse brightens and rushes across the space between to grasp Hanzo’s face in his hands, pressing a firm kiss to his still smiling mouth. Hanzo allows him to deepen it as he wishes, encouraging him with a slow hand run up the length of one arm, but does not allow himself to be distracted. With this sort of thing, there is much work to be done. 

“You will need to inform your parents they must arrive quickly, we will arrange for their flight today. All preparations and pre-operation meetings are better done in person.”

“Yeah, uh...about that.” Jesse pulls back then, fidgeting once more, hand scratching at his nape. “Gabe wanted to...well, they both wanted to talk to _you_ about it. Make sure you’re alright with everythin’.”

“Understandable.” And proving once more Jesse’s fathers were intelligent men. “I would be happy to.”

It’s a lie. Hanzo doesn’t relish the thought of speaking to Gabriel once more, not with the viciousness he’d been met with previously. But it is necessary and Jesse’s sigh of relief is all the courage he needs to press forwards.

“We should contact them now, yes? There is little time to waste.”

“Yeah, yes, absolutely,” Jesse fumbles in his pocket, extracting his phone and typing on the screen quickly. 

Hanzo watches, amused, fingers tapping on the kotatsu he’s arranged himself under. The video call will make for another point in his favor, given his current position. The unseasonably warm weather--which is to say that Hanzo can step outside without the cold wind stealing the breath from his lungs--has allowed them to open the doors slightly, relying on their heavier clothes and the kotatsu to combat the slight chill in the air.

Satya’s beautifully arranged garden will make for quite the impressive backdrop to the chat. 

Jesse must receive permission quickly enough, as he settles himself in next to Hanzo and starts setting up the video call. Hanzo allows himself to be distracted at the press of a body in so close to his own, looping an arm around Jesse’s waist. It earns him a soft, if distracted, smile, and he presses a kiss to Jesse’s throat as the call starts to ring through. 

“Don’t tease me when I’m tryin’ to talk to my folks.” Jesse mumbles, but there’s a flush to his cheeks and shine to his eyes that tells Hanzo it’s a weak protest at best.

“Of course. Because you certainly have _never_ attempted to distract me during important times.”

Jesse laughs, chokes a bit on the end of it when Hanzo squeezes him playfully, before his attention is diverted when the call connects abruptly. 

Jesse’s fathers, when they come into view are...precisely what Hanzo expected. Older and scarred from the lives they’ve lived--a particularly vicious set of scars running at a slant across the face of one. Hanzo assumes that’s Jack, as the scars would give reason for deteriorating eyesight since one practically bisects an eye. Which means the darker skinned of the two, with his own share of scars and a snarl in the middle of a goatee, is Gabriel.

The face certainly matches the voice, then. 

“You must be Shimada Hanzo.”

Hanzo inclines his head, respectful if still wary. This man is his elder after all, and raised such a fine man as Jesse. He deserves the gesture.

“I am. It is a pleasure to finally put a face to the voice, Commander Gabriel Reyes.”

A gentle push, just a bit, letting Gabriel know that he is not the only one with information. Hanzo has to view this strategically. This is a battle as much as anything else in his life is and he does not intend to lose.

There’s a moment of bitter silence as they stare at one another, unmoving, before Jack sighs and his eyes shift over.

“Jesse, how are you doing, son?”

“I’m fine, Pa.” Jesse is languid, relaxed, but there’s a tension to his brow that says Hanzo’s posturing hasn’t gone unnoticed. “How about you? ‘Bout done with bein’ poked at by Doctors?”

“You could say that,” Jack grumbles, before raising a hand in a small wave. “Nice to finally meet you, Shimada-san.”

That….is somewhat of a shock. But according to research, Jack had been a Strike Commander, dealing with both soldier and diplomats. It would make sense he knows the proper honorifics.

“A pleasure,” Hanzo inclines his head once more, pairing it with a small smile. “Just Hanzo will do fine, if you please.”

Jack nods and that’s that done then. He seems far more easy-going than Gabriel, more personable at the very least. But from what Jesse has told him, Gabriel was the one to find him, to make the decision that Jesse would be theirs. It makes sense he is a bit more protective.

“So, we were thinkin’--well,” Jesse hedges, glancing at him for a moment, “ _I_ was thinkin’--why don’t y’all fly over here and then we can get the surgery and all that set up? And then Hanzo says y’all can stay here in Shimada Castle with us durin’ recovery.”

Hanzo is quick to intervene when Gabriel scowls, brows an angry line, scars pulling tight in his skin with the expression.

“Of course, that is completely up to you. Should you wish, I could make accomodations at any hotel or spa, if you would be more comfortable recovering there. We have many medical resorts in Hanamura made specifically for recovering surgery patients.”

Most of them owned by the Shimada Clan, of course. It would be work of a moment to have some of the employees be transferred over to the castle to watch over and assist Jack in his recovery--but Hanzo cannot imagine they would be comfortable under his roof so soon.

Especially given Gabriel’s still volcanic expression.

“I’m sure Shimada Castle is a fine place to recover.” Jack says, a hand on Gabe’s shoulder. “And it would give us the opportunity to spend the holidays with you, Jesse. It’s been too long since we’ve had that.”

“Yeah, I--” Jesse clears his throat and Hanzo takes a moment to look over, squeezing him slightly in support at the sight of the sheen across his eyes. “M’sorry ‘bout that, Pa. Figure maybe I can make it up to you both now.”

“There’s nothing to make up.” Gabe grumps, but his focus is finally off of Hanzo. “You fucked up, so what? Every kid does. Part of being a parent is accepting that your kids are gonna break shit, including your heart once or twice. This isn’t any worse than when you got dragged home by the cops for practicing your aim on billboards.”

“Oh?” This is more familiar ground, less tense, though only slightly. “I must have missed out on that particular tale when we were reminiscing about our childhoods.”

Jesse laughs nervously, too high and tight, slinging an arm around Hanzo’s shoulders and shooting a pleading look towards the screen.

“Well--uh! That’s ‘cause some stuff is better left in the past, right, Dad? And we all oughta jus’ move on past our misspent youths and focus on the future.”

“Speaking of--” 

Gabe doesn’t actually finish the sentence, just focuses once more on Hanzo. This is...not ideal. He knew there would be a conflict, Gabriel is too hardened and stubborn a man for there not to be. But Jesse is suddenly tense at his side and Jack’s knuckles have gone white where they clutch Gabriel’s sleeve. They seem to be expecting a knock-down-drag-out-fight.

Hanzo will not allow it to come to that. Not in front of their respective lovers.

He is younger than Gabriel, but not as young as Jesse. He cannot be intimidated.

“Yes?”

“What are your intentions towards my son?”


	7. Chapter 7

Complete.

Fucking. 

Silence.

Jesse’s fairly certain he stops breathing, can see Jack inhale sharply, loud enough that it’s heard over the audio feed. Gabe doesn’t break focus, staring Hanzo down, and the arm around Jesse’s waist goes lax.

He’s not sure if it means Hanzo is relaxed, or if he’s pulling away.

He hopes and prays it’s the first one.

“What do you mean?” 

Jesse has never heard Hanzo’s voice so calm, so level. Usually when they chat, it’s tinged with affection at the very least, or amusement. This is a whole other side of Hanzo, calm and in control, face a pleasant but blank mask. Hell, he’s not even smiling, mouth lax and giving nothing away.

The...control in his body would turn Jesse on in any other circumstance. But right now, all it’s doing is making him panic.

They haven’t even discussed what they are yet, aside from some sort of weird boyfriend/sugar-daddy situation. Jesse knows he loves him, sure, but he sure as hell didn’t want the confession to come because Gabe pushed too hard.

He’s also not sure if Hanzo loves him so that’s...just one more thing adding to the anxiety making his gut clench so hard he thinks he might be sick all over the kotatsu.

Good goddamn thing they opened the doors to the garden. Without the chill drifting in, Jesse’s pretty sure he’d have over-heated to the point of heatstroke right about now.

“You’re too fucking smart to play dumb with me.” Gabe snaps, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jack’s muttering something in his ear, probably trying to placate him, but Jesse knows it won’t work. Gabe’s always been protective of him, from when he was just a kid to as he grew. They had an amazing bond because of it but there were times it also made Jesse wish he was a bit more like Jack. Gabe would wrap him in bubble wrap from the world if he could.

Jack once let him try to go down the stairs in a laundry basket only to meet him at the bottom, after Jesse had went ass over elbows down the entire flight, and ask “what did you learn from this?”

“What would you like me to say, Commander Reyes?” Hanzo asks quietly, still unreadable, still unmoving. “Is there any answer that exists that might somehow magically make you worry less for your child? I am the leader of a prominent Yakuza Clan. You know of my history, you know of my _Clan’s_ history. You know virtually nothing about who I am as a person. What words exist in this world that I could possibly offer to both prove myself worthy of your respect and Jesse’s affection?”

Gabe is quiet for too long. Jesse almost wants to pretend the video shorted out. Shut the call down. Face this another day. But Hanzo is still staring at his dad, arm still lax around him, and Jesse fights back the urge to bury his face in Hanzo’s throat.

He wants to kiss him. Wants to prove to Gabe that he’s here willingly--though he’s said it about a hundred times already. Wants to show Hanzo he’s here for him, he’s on his side in whatever fight he and Gabe think is on-going.

In the end, he leans a bit more into Hanzo’s side and waits.

“I wanna know if I’ve gotten back in touch with my son just in time to comfort him through a broken heart.”

Hanzo exhales, a measured response, something so soft Jesse barely hears it over the way his heart is pounding in his ears. He feels like there isn’t enough air and maybe like there’s too much. His chest is tight but his head feels oddly light, like it might pop off and float away at any moment. 

“I do not intend to break Jesse’s heart, nor the trust he has placed in me. Where our relationship goes past this moment, I cannot say. But I will do my utmost to ensure that should our relationship be forced to end, I will guarantee it is done as gently as possible. Without any harm to either of us.”

“Yakuza’s are held to their words.”

“And you may hold me to mine.”

“Well, now that all that posturing is out of the way?” Jack breaks the terseness with a light-hearted, if forced, laugh. “Go ahead and send us the info on the plane tickets, Jes. We don’t have anything planned so we can roll out of here in just a few hours if need be.”

“Sleep on your decision. We can simply arrange for a flight tomorrow night.” Hanzo advises, arm now tight around his waist once more as he smiles.

It doesn’t reach his eyes, but it’s a start. 

Jack nods and that’s that all done then. The rest of the conversation flys by over Jesse’s head, though he hears himself numbly respond to things. It’s all pleasant filler conversation, nothing too important. No more heavy topics, thank god, and it ends shortly thereafter once both sides run out of conversation.

When the screen goes back to a flat black, Jesse inhales deeply--

And lets himself fall backwards, splaying out on the rug to stare at the ceiling.

There’s a noise of surprise from Hanzo and then his face leans into Jesse’s view, brow drawn tight in concern. 

“Jesse?”

“Pa likes you.” He answers, a warm feeling spreading outwards from his chest alongside the grin that’s stretching his mouth out. “I can tell. Dad ain’t--Gabe don’t like nobody much. But he respects you, I reckon.”

“They seem like fine men.” Hanzo comments, still looking worried. “Are you--”

“I want you to fuck me.”

Hanzo’s mouth falls open, shock marring his face, and Jesse waves a hand between them to silence any possible responses.

“No, no, I--don’t think this is some spur of the moment thing. I want you to fuck me. Seein’ you all in control like that--hearin’ you talk about how you wanna make sure you don’t hurt me? I want it.”

“Do not feel as though I said those things to somehow sway your decision.”

“Naw, I know you didn’t.” Jesse reaches up, grasps at Hanzo’s yukata lapels until the older man is bearing down over him, faces only inches apart. “But if this is gonna end, like you said, I don’t wanna end it without knowin’ what you feel like inside me.”

“Jesse--” Hanzo’s eyes darken then, shuttering closed for an instant before he leans down and presses a kiss to Jesse’s still grinning lips. 

He tries to deepen it, hands tugging at Hanzo, desperate for more touch, but Hanzo grips his wrist tightly and pulls back.

“I do not foresee this ending because of any decision of mine. If you...do not feel the same, our time is better spent discussing our remaining time together rather than being intimate.”

“Hell, I don’t want this to end either, Hanzo. But I--I know I ain’t got much t’offer you. In the way of like...being a proper partner.”

“Why would you say that?” Hanzo’s face doesn’t hold any judgement, but there’s a little frown on his lips now.

Jesse doesn’t know if it’s because he knows he’s right or because he doesn’t like what he’s hearing. Either way…

“Lookit me, Hanzo.” He waves a hand over his body. “I’m some bootcamp reject, ain’t never been to college, can’t speak a lick of Japanese past orderin’ at a ramen restaurant. You got friends like Amelie and Satya who can hop planes jus’ to come and have dinner with you. Figure you could find a better partner than me on any street ‘round here.”

“And yet,” Hanzo says softly, cupping a hand around his ear, thumb rubbing softly against his temple in a relaxing metronome. “I can think of none I want more. None who bewitch me, who unravel my thoughts and distract me in the way you do. None who have tempted me so much I have taken time away from my duties to be with them. You are far more than you think you are, Jesse McCree and I--”

He freezes then, eyes going wide, and Jesse’s heart leaps up into his throat. He’s not an idiot, despite his own disparaging words. He can finish that sentence easy enough. 

_Hanzo loves him too_.

This isn’t the right time. Jesse doesn’t want the confession to come because he went and threw himself a little pity party and Hanzo’s trying to cheer him up. Doesn’t want it on the tail end of Hanzo being pressured by Gabe.

He wants it when it feels right and right now?

Ain’t the time.

“Hey,” it comes out rough, thick with emotion, and Jesse clears his throat before he tries again. “Y’know...there’s nobody around right now. And I dunno ‘bout you, but I got some energy I’d like to work off.”

“Oh?” Hanzo arches a brow, smiling just a bit. “And how do you propose we do that?”

Sounds stupid in his head, it’s gonna sound stupid coming out of his mouth. But Jesse’s so _gone_ on this man he doesn’t care anymore. Hanzo was pretty firm about the “no fucking” thing...but that doesn’t mean they can’t have a little fun.

“C’mere. Over my shoulders.” Hanzo resists just a bit, but rumbles out a small laugh when Jesse pulls at him and whines. “Don’t be _mean_. Come on. I wanna feel your cock down my throat.”

There’s a flush on Hanzo’s cheeks, red and hot as his eyes glimmer in the light from the open garden doors. He shakes his head, disapproval in his voice, even as he awkwardly tries to settle himself where Jesse indicates.

“The things you say…”

“This mouth can do a lot more’n jus’ talk.” Jesse grins up at him, wriggling to adjust to the weight of Hanzo just barely settled on his chest. “Course, you already know that, don’cha?”

“Foolish.”

“Maybe,” Jesse murmurs, hands already peeling apart the sides of his yukata, pushing and shoving until the material is parted completely under the belt at the waist. 

All that’s between him and his goal are a pair of loose fitting underwear, not quite briefs or boxers, but loose cloth that instantly molds itself to Hanzo’s cock when Jesse’s tongue flicks out to lick. Hanzo makes a small noise but doesn’t move to stop him, hands above his head, bracing his body as best he can while Jesse tears and yanks at the underwear.

He’d be gentler other days. But he needs...something. Needs more, maybe. Needs to show Hanzo he feels the same. Needs to prove something, maybe to himself, maybe to both of them. 

He just...needs.

It must be uncomfortable for Hanzo, the waistband of his underwear biting into his thighs, cloth pulling taut from how Jesse has wretched and forced it out of the way. But he doesn’t say a word, making soft sounds like he can’t get enough air into his lungs as Jesse captures the tip of his cock between his lips. It’s not enough, not nearly enough, and it takes some heavy swallows and gentle shoves to Hanzo’s hips to get him to lean forwards.

Jesse all but goes limp the first time the thick head presses just a bit too deep, cutting off his air, making his throat rebel and tighten against the intrusion. He feels airy, too light, like he might just float away without Hanzo’s grounding weight on his chest. 

He can feel Hanzo petting worriedly at his hair, gentle like he doesn’t want Jesse to think he’s asking for more, as he eases back just enough to drag in a desperate gasp before taking him in deeper. 

It’s over too fast, in his opinion. In reality, it takes longer than it should, Hanzo battling his own orgasm as he worries for how red Jesse’s face is, how his eyes water as he gags and chokes. But soon enough Jesse hears a telltale groan of his name and swallows fast, lips sealed around Hanzo’s cock so not a drop of come escapes his mouth. 

He stares at the ceiling afterwards, hauling in deep and easy breaths while Hanzo climbs off him, settling down at his side. There’s a gentle hand stroking across his chest, smoothing over it like Hanzo’s trying to soothe some injured animal, and as the roar in his ears recedes, Jesse realizes the comparison isn’t too far off. He’s huffing and puffing like crazy, trying to stabilize his breathing back to normal while trying not to lose the feeling of loose-limbed relaxation.

“Jesse,” Hanzo hums, worry in his tone and face when Jesse lazily tips his head to the side to look. “Are you...I am not complaining, of course….but you are not….you did not....”

Hanzo’s right. He’s soft between his thighs, his cock doing a whole lotta nothing down there, but it doesn’t worry him. This wasn’t about him. This was about convincing Hanzo he was worth it, at least for a little while longer. It was about reminding Hanzo the pleasure he could bring, the pleasure they could experience together, something Hanzo had admitted he’d not found with anyone else. 

It won’t work to say that, of course. Hanzo won’t buy that for a second, will rush to assure him of his own worth once more. 

But Jesse knows what will work.

He smiles, lets his tongue flicker out to wipe across his lips, and raises a hand to rub the strand of hair fallen loose from Hanzo’s ponytail between two fingers. 

“I’m thinkin’ I want a hat.”

“A hat?” Hanzo doesn’t follow, confusion bending his brow, but his mouth softens into a small smile. “What sort of hat?”

“Cowboy hat. Maybe one o’ the nice ones. Used to have one when I was younger, but it was a cheap thing. Loved it, though.”

“If you want one, you shall have it.” Hanzo murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek, soft and gentle.

He knows what’s up. But he’s willing to play along and for that, Jesse is eternally grateful.

“You’re the best, darlin’.”

“Hardly. But I am ever willing to provide.”

.O.

“So...you and Jesse seem to be getting on well.”

Hanzo doesn’t pause where he’s sorting through the reports Genji had brought over, pulling another paper from the stack to sweep his eyes over it.

“And what of it?”

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing.” Genji is all but flopped onto the kotatsu, head propped up on his hands. “I’ve just never seen you like this with someone. Begs the question of wedding bells in my dear brother’s future.”

“Have you been talking to Amelie.” 

“Maaaaaybe,” Genji grins at Hanzo’s agitated huff. “She just sent me an email, Hanzo. It’s not like we went out to lunch together. Y’know...not like Jesse and Satya.”

At the reminder of why Jesse isn’t currently home, Hanzo sets the paper down and scowls at his brother, finally giving him the attention he’s craving. Genji realizes it for what it is, brightening with a slap of his hands against the table.

“You don’t like that they’re having lunch.”

“I do not mind it.” Hanzo snaps. “I enjoy that Jesse and Satya get along as well as they do. Satya does not have many friends, nor does Jesse. It is a good thing.”

“But you weren’t invited and _that_ bothers you.”

He’s not wrong. It’s not a childish sort of hurt at being excluded, but Hanzo bristles that the invitation wasn’t extended to him. Satya can be direct and forthright, and he worries for Jesse without himself to provide a buffer. She wouldn’t do anything absurd like take him to pick out a wedding cake, but Satya has ways of getting the exact information she wants without the person giving said information even knowing she’s fishing for it.

Hanzo values his privacy above all. Even from friends.

“It is _fine_ ,” he bites out, watching Genji scoff at the obvious lie. “Can we please talk about something else?”

“Sure. When are the parents coming to town?”

“Stay out of my bank account statements.” 

“Oh, I didn’t need to go looking that deep.” Genji laughs, refilling his cup of sake--and Hanzo’s at the slight gesture of his hand. “I asked the maids. They said they were preparing a guest room--one of the ones Father used to use for visiting dignitaries. I put the pieces together well enough myself.”

“And where was that cunning intelligence when you were in school?” Hanzo murmurs, drinking from his cup and firmly ignoring Genji’s pout.

“Hurtful, big brother. Incredibly hurtful. So--when are they arriving?”

“The tickets were ordered this morning, after they confirmed their desire to come. They will leave on a flight tonight and arrive tomorrow morning.”

“Perfect!” Genji slaps his hands together in a semi-clap. “Because I need to borrow your boyfriend tonight.”

“Absolutely not.” Hanzo grits his teeth, leaving all pretense of ignoring to glare across the table. “I permitted Satya’s invitation because I wish for Jesse to have more friends in Hanamura. I will not continue to accept interruptions to our time together, not when I have specifically taken this vacation to be with him.”

“Come _on_ ,” Genji huffs. “I need his brute strength as back-up. I’ll have him back to you in time to pick up his parents from the airport.”

“What’cha need back-up for?” 

Both men snap to attention at the drawled question, looking to where Jesse is slipping into the room, sliding the door closed behind him. He looks _good_ , cheeks red from the cold, skin glowing, a small smile on his face. Hanzo relaxes a bit at the sight--obviously the lunch had gone well despite his misgivings. He waits for a moment, listening to Genji tease Jesse about the hat Hanzo had given him money to purchase while he was out and watching as Jesse pulls it from his head to swat at his brother with it.

“If you’re lookin’ for help, insultin’ a man’s hat ain’t the way to get it, partner.”

“You look like something out of one of those old cowboy films!” Genji laughs, trying to grab the hat from Jesse’s hands, out of reach when Jesse shoves it back into place on his head. “Should we buy you a horse next? Maybe tie Hanzo up with some rope so you can throw him over the back of it and ride off into the sunset?”

“Attempting that would be the last thing you ever did.” Hanzo mutters darkly, before scooting over to allow Jesse to settle next to him under the warmth of the kotatsu. “How was lunch?”

“Good!” Jesse enthuses, accepting the cup of sake Genji hands him as his free hand sweeps his hat off once more and sets it beside them on the ground. “Satya’s got a wicked sense of humor, I’ll tell you that. Pretty sure I almost busted a gut laughin’ a few times.”

He eyes Genji with a mock scowl.

“An’ _she_ said my hat made me look dashingly handsome. So suck on that.”

As Genji makes a lewd gesture that has Hanzo rolling his eyes, Jesse finishes off his cup, pressing a small kiss to Hanzo’s cheek. 

“What’cha two been up to?”

“I was just asking Hanzo if you could accompany me tonight. I’ll have you back in time to get your parents in the morning, I just need a bit of help.” Genji sees the opening and rushes for it, the picture of polite begging as he folds his hands on the table in front of him. 

“Oh, yeah? I’m always happy to help! What’cha needin’ me for?”

Hanzo grits his teeth, shoots his brother a look that says he’d rather upend the table than have him answer that question. It’s ignored, of course, but it’s the thought that counts. 

“Your former boss, the asshole? He’s trying to stir up trouble again. Seems my little chat with him wasn’t enough to dissuade him from being a fool.”

All pretense of ignoring his brother drops in an instant. Hanzo sees Jesse scowl, sees his jaw tighten in anger, and carefully folds his hands on the table.

“Would it be better if Jesse wasn’t involved? His presence may alert Watanabe in ways that are needless and won’t help your plans.”

“No, that’s kinda the point.” Genji scrubs his hands through his hair in frustration.

Hanzo can see the years on his brother suddenly. The determination to protect the Clan, if only to protect Hanzo. He’s hardened in a way that seems at odds with his typical jovial nature. 

Hanzo isn’t glad to see it, no matter how much he has said he would like to.

“See, he’s been reaching out. Information says he’s getting in touch with a few other Yakuza groups. Smaller factions, nowhere near as powerful as our Clan. But it doesn’t bode well. I want it stopped and I want it done now. He knows Jesse is a good fighter and knows he’s not gonna pull punches just because he used to work for him. I want this to be a clear threat.”

“I...see.” Hanzo wants to smile, wants to grin broadly at the stern tone in Genji’s voice.

He’s learned well. Hanzo takes partial credit for it, as he recognizes some of the words as orders he himself has spat out in agitation with a problem that persists.

And yet…

“Is he dangerous? I do not want you or Jesse placed in needless danger. Could we not simply send some of our more trained guards after him?”

“He’s too stupid to be dangerous.”

“Fools are often the most dangerous.” Hanzo catches sight of Jesse’s sly grin from the corner of one eye and lets his mouth tick up into a smile for a moment. “They often surprise us in ways we are not expecting.”

Genji pulls a face, sticking out his tongue. “You’re gross.”

“Well, either way, I’d sure like to get some revenge on the sonofabitch. So y’can count me in for help.”

“Perfect!” Genji claps his hands together like that’s the matter settled and Hanzo desperately wants to hit him. “We’ll leave in a few hours then? I know you’re a good shot, I’ll pick up a gun for you in case things get a bit rough.”

“Sounds good t’me!”

“Best that you be on your way then.” Hanzo’s voice comes out a bit more vicious than he intends but he’s _agitated_ at the thought of more time snatched away by Jesse’s ever helpful nature. 

Genji grins and nods, pushing himself up from the table and hurrying through his goodbyes. As the door shuts in his wake Hanzo sighs and leans heavily into Jesse’s side, running idle fingers over one thigh. There’s an answering hum and the careful card of fingers through his hair, Jesse pressing a small kiss to the crown of Hanzo’s head.

“Y’alright, darlin’?”

“I grow ever more tempted to take you away from here. Seclude you so that our time together is no longer interrupted.”

“Aw, sugar,” Jesse squeezes him close for a moment, ignoring his huff, and he can feel the man’s smile in the second kiss he recieves to his head. “There’ll be plenty o’ time for that. Plus, if you’re wantin’ me to stick around, I figure gettin’ on your brother’s good side won’t hurt matters none.”

“I am concerned that Genji even felt the need to involve you. He is…” Hanzo leans away a bit, tips his head to catch Jesse’s curious frown. “He is not unaware of the training you received during your military training, nor your proficiencies. If he thought to ask you, he is perhaps lying about the amount of trouble he expects to face.”

“Well, all the better that he’s not goin’ at it alone then, right?” 

Hanzo can’t argue with that logic.

Gods above, he wants to. But he can’t.

“I suppose you are correct.”

“Cheer up, darlin’.” Jesse leans in, quick as a snake, and plants a sweet but short kiss to his frown. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“In my line of work, I learn to never wonder such things.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Seems like a lotta men just for a lil talk.” 

Jesse’s keeping his voice low, careful for listening ears as he leans casually against the bar. Genji’s keeping the bartenders well paid to serve them colorful and expensive looking non-alcoholic drinks that they’re downing like it’s the end of the world. 

‘Creating a false sense of security’, Genji’d murmured when he slid the first one across the bartop to him. 

There are more Shimada employees in the midst of the people on the dance floor, dressed casually and looking for all the world like they’re there to unwind. But Jesse’s learned to pick dangers out of a crowd and his eyes keep landing and skipping over the men a little too tight in the shoulders, the women with tight dresses and tighter smiles. 

“I...might have under explained the danger when we were with Hanzo.” Genji groans at Jesse’s immediate arched brow. “C’mon, you know how he is. Neither of us would’ve been allowed within a hundred yards of this place. And I want to settle this personally.”

“Sure seems like it.” Jesse tips his drink to his mouth, winces like it’s whiskey when the crisp apple taste hits his tongue. 

Genji sighs, rolls his glass between his palms as his shoulders mimic the motion. Jesse’s seen enough men in emotional turmoil to know this is...something different. 

“Genji,” he turns back to the bar, deposits his empty drink and waves for another. “What happened? Yeah, this fucker’s messin’ with your family and god knows I get that. But you’re looking like you wanna take him out with your bare hands and that...that’s more than family.”

Genji’s head hangs low for a moment and Jesse rubs a hand between his shoulder blades, careful about his movements. To the others, he looks like nothing more than a friend comforting another who’s had one too many. But he keeps his touch firm, keeping Genji grounded, feeling his back rise and fall with quicker breaths. 

“One of the Yakuza groups he’s in with, a Doctor in the area is on their payroll. And part of whatever _deal_ ,” Genji bites the word viciously, hissing it, “they have is that his fighters go there after they’ve been roughed up. Pay a shitload of money so that this Doctor doesn’t tell the cops, some of which goes right back into his own pocket.”

Jesse frowns, tapping restless fingers on the countertop.

“When I was here, we used to go to the free clinic a few blocks out. Monks ran the place, quiet folk who were happy to bandage us up without makin’ any calls.”

“I know.”

Realization dawns, as does a sinking feeling in Jesse’s stomach. He doesn’t bother picking up the new drink placed next to Genji’s own refill, certain it’d come right back up if he tried.

“He took out the competition.”

“He didn’t do it entirely but….” Genji scrubs his hands over his face, looking ancient and exhausted for a split second. “Someone burned the clinic to the ground. Nearly caught the monks inside. A few of his men went after anyone who could’ve seen something. When words didn’t buy their silence, they used fists.”

Jesse’s quiet for a few more moments, taking in the information, processing Genji’s tone and his body language. He bumps their hips together, nudging Genji just enough that it turns his head. 

“What’s her name?”

“Ah.” A flush crawls across Genji’s cheeks, visible even in the shitty neon light. “His, actually. Zenyatta.”

Jesse has vague memories of the name and the accompanying man. Slender but with a powerful voice, rarely rattled by his injuries but daring enough to scold him as he bandaged him up.

Calm and collected. Damn good pair to Genji’s fire, he figures.

“You’ll have to invite him to dinner. Bet Hanzo’d be pleased as punch that someone that level-headed got you twisted up in knots.”

“Oh, shut up.” Genji grumbles, bumping him back a little harder, before his eyes sharpen and he glares across the bar. “There’s our mark.”

“Easy, easy,” Jesse whispers back, hooking a finger in Genji’s belt loop when it looks like he’s liable to jump over the bar. “We ain’t gonna get anythin’ accomplished if we run in like a pair of fools.”

The gun at the small of his back is warm, almost like a reminder. He can hear Gabe’s words from when he was small, curious about the weapons locked safely away from his hands. 

_“Guns make people think they’re bigger than they are. People are dangerous, Jesse, and guns make them deadly.”_

Genji’s not as level-headed as he’d like him to be, but Jesse still is. He wants the sonofabitch to pay, but he needs to be smart about it. 

He opens his mouth to warn Genji again when there’s the heavy weight of a person slamming into his back and a cold splash over one shoulder. Jesse steps back, away from Genji, pulling his now sodden shirt away from his torso with a grimace. Genji steadies the girl wobbling on her heels only inches from them, whose face is slowly draining of color under the bright make-up.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” She claps her hands together, bowing slightly before it tosses her off balance and she has to latch onto Genji’s arm to stay on her feet. “I was just walking and then...then the world tipped and _I_ tipped and--your shirt, I’m so sorry! Please, let me pay for a new one!”

“No worries, darlin’. I’ve got about a hundred more.” Jesse waves off her concerns, letting Genji and his smooth tongue do the talking as he surveys the room. 

Something is...off. Very off. But the song playing loud over the speakers is some sort of chaotic pop remix, with loud bass and flashing dance floor lights to accompany it. He can’t see shit in the crowd over the boodies jumping together, can barely hear the two next to him over the cheerful screams and off-kilter singing. 

“Well,” Genji turns back to him, cheerfully waving to the girl who’s now being led away by a group of other girls. “The good news is, after we get back, Hanzo can buy you something again.”

Jesse scowls at him, snatching up his drink to hide the flush he knows is turning his cheeks dark. It tastes awful, nothing like the sweet juices that’d been filling his cup before, and Jesse makes a mental note to ask Genji what the hell kinda fruit juice tastes like _that_ so he can avoid it completely in the future. 

“Hush up. Y’ain’t gotta bring that into it.”

“I do not judge.” Genji’s wiggling eyebrows say he lies as he picks up his own glass. “Whatever helps my brother be less...himself is something I shall always support. Plus, your shirts are...what? 200 yen? We could probably grab a new one out of an arcade machine on the way home.”

“Y’little shit.” Jesse grouses, “do y’ever stop?”

“Yes. When my mouth is full.” Genji downs his own drink in one go, scowling with his tongue out as he rears back slightly to glare at the glass. “Which it no longer is and...thank the gods. That was...disgusting.”

He grins at Jesse, waggling his eyebrows obnoxiously.

“But what’s a bad taste on the tongue when one swallow gets rid of it, yeah?”

Jesse huffs, finishes his own drink and places it back on the bar top, glancing at the door Watanabe and his group had gone through.

“Think we can get to moving?”

“Absolutely.” Genji tosses the glass in the air once, the agreed sign to the guards they’d brought with them, before placing it on the bartop.

Making their way through the crowd is an effort, with the bodies still pressed so tightly together and the lights almost blindingly bright now. But space clears soon enough when it’s evident to the others that Jesse and Genji aren’t trying to cut into their intimate moments or groups of friends. They slip through the door with nods to the guards posted at either side and he hears one murmur “locker room” as they pass.

Jesse braces himself for the memories as the door closes behind them. They are...bittersweet. The ring still calls to him, begging him to prove himself, to beat back his insecurities along with his opponent. The halls are filled with memories of him leaning up against one to catch his breath with broken ribs, helping another fighter with a broken leg limp to help. 

This place is not a good part of his past, but it’s a part of it nonetheless.

This is….closure, in a way. Coming full circle. 

Except this time, he’s going home to Hanzo, not home _with_ Hanzo. 

He and Genji walk side by side down the halls, twisting their way towards the locker room. Jesse grumbles when Genji repeatedly bumps into his shoulder, but he understands the closeness. It’s just them, they need to stay together until the others can get to them.

“You ready?” Genji asks quietly, one hand on the knob of the locker room door, the other on the gun tucked into his own waistband. 

Jesse frowns, steadies Genji’s arm with his own. His fingers are shaking, adrenaline probably, but his voice is firm.

“We don’t need to go in there like blazzin’ saddles, Genji. Guns can wait.”

“Right.” Genji moves his hand away, blinks like he’s trying to focus...or maybe confused by Jesse’s words. “I’d have thought that blazing saddles would be the _exact_ way you’d want to go in though.”

“Open the damn door.” Jesse bites out in a hiss and Genji grins momentarily before complying. 

Jese can hear the hushed voices when they enter, echoing too loud in the quiet space. When men who are used to being loud are forced to be quiet, they never get it quite right. Genji leaves the door cracked behind them, open for the guards who will be making their way in shortly. He keeps low, crouches behind lockers as they make their way towards the sounds of chatter. 

He knows which corners to tuck behind to eavesdrop, pulls Genji along until he can hear it clearly enough. Can’t understand a word of it, which has Jesse scowling out a promise to himself to ask Hanzo for some Japanese lessons when they get back home. But Genji does, if his unfocused eyes and tense body are any indication.

_What’s going on?_ Jesse mouths at him, Genji holding up a finger for a moment before he presses in close to put his lips near Jesse’s ear.

Genji knows how to whisper, thank god. Jesse has to strain him to hear over the voices of the other men.

“They’re talking about some plan. How it’s starting tonight. How Hanzo will…” Genji trails off, eyes going unfocused again before he shakes himself. “How Hanzo will regret his involvement and his...pet? They said dog but...we don’t have...dogs?”

“Of course you do.” Jesse head whips around his heart drops into his stomach at the sight of a gun inches from his face. “What do you think this mutt is?”

How didn’t they hear them move? There are men behind the one pointing a gun at his face. Watanabe is standing just behind them, an evil grin on his face. 

_Why didn’t they hear them move?_

Why….why is he having to struggle so hard to stay balanced in his crouch? Why does it feel like Genji’s leaning his whole goddamn body weight into his side?

“You really should be more careful.” Watanabe calls, stepping through the men towards them as Jesse tries to keep his balance.

Genji’s clutching at him now, fingers digging tight into his shoulders, slumping against his side. 

“W-What--”

“You really should know better than to leave drinks unattended.” Watanabe reaches forward, grips his hair in a tight fist that has Jesse hissing and reaching up with numb fingers to claw at the offending arm. 

“Ah, but then again, dogs will take whatever’s placed in front of them. It’s in your nature.” He leans close, so close Jesse’s eyes nearly cross, so close he can smell the fetid stench of his breath.

“Luckily for me? So is dying for their master.”

Jesse doesn’t have time to react before he’s tossed viciously to the side, slamming his head into the lockers. The hit leaves him dazed, blinking back stars, one hand reaching for the gun at his back. He can’t get at it, not with Genji all but collapsed on his side.

The foot comes out of nowhere, a double blow that splits his forehead open and shoves him into the lockers once more.

Then it all fades to black.

.O.

“And you’ve heard no word? No men matching their descriptions have been spotted nearby or in the hotels?”

“No, sir.” Hanzo grits his teeth at the downtrodden tone on the other end of the phone. “We are searching still. But the trail leads to the fight club and then simply...stops.”

Hanzo sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose in an attempt to lessen the pounding headache, and catches sight of his driver’s concerned stare in the mirror. 

“And what of the other men? The guards Genji brought with him?”

“They have all returned, sir, but their stories are eerily similar. They were all fine one moment, they remember suddenly taking ill, then the memories blur until they woke up this morning. None of them were injured, merely in love hotels with unfamiliar women.”

“And you’ve checked these women’s backgrounds?”

“Common prostitutes, as far as we can tell. Documented and working for various people around the area. No history of any such behavior. They all say they were approached by the men and proceeded to do….well, what their job entails.”

“So many women presenting the same story?” 

It’s suspicious but Hanzo doesn’t need to say that aloud to have it understood.

“We are watching them closely, sir. But I would much rather donate manpower to searching for the young lord and your...partner.”

“My _lover_.” Hanzo’s phone bites into his finger with the strength of his sudden grip. “He is my lover. So as you can imagine, I am much more invested in his return than I would be if he were a simple _partner_.”

“Of course, sir! My sincerest apologies!” There’s a mad scramble in the background that matches the frantic tone in the man’s voice. “We will double--no, _triple_ our efforts. Your brother and your lover will be returned to you. You have my word.”

“They had better be.”

Hanzo ends the call viciously, raises his hand to throw and smash the phone against the far door when he catches sight of the hat on the seat next to him. The phone falls from his hand to the floor as he reaches out for it, holding it to his chest. 

Jesse had been so adamant about wearing it to obtain his parents from the airport. Said they would recognize him far better with it on. Hanzo had held it in his hands in the early hours when the call had come in that something had gone wrong. 

It’s sentimental and stupid but...perhaps if he keeps it close, it’s owner will follow soon after. 

Genji’s plan had been foolish and he more so for agreeing to it. He should have demanded Jesse _and_ Genji stay out of it all. Hire people to take care of it quietly.

He let his need to make Jesse happy outweigh his own intelligence and intuition. If he ever gets another chance, it will _never_ happen again. 

“Sir?” His driver’s voice is quiet, perhaps in respect to his current foul mood. “We have almost arrived at the airport. Should you wish, I can easily call for another car to pick up Mr. McCree’s parents and deliver them to the household.”

“No,” Hanzo sighs while his soul screams for him to agree. “It is...it would be unspeakably rude. I shall greet them.”

It will be...dangerous. Gabriel Reyes is not a man who will take lightly the news his son--who has just barely returned to him--is missing from his arms yet again. Adding onto that a husband preparing for surgery and a foreign country….

Hanzo will need all of his training in discipline and manners simply to talk Gabriel down from killing him on the spot.

And if he does not straighten out his aching heart, he won’t be able to muster the courage to stop him. 

He braces himself when the car comes to a stop, focusing on the sounds of an engine rumbling idle, and likens it to himself. This is not a world-ending event. Jesse and Genji _will_ be found and recovered. He will deliver Jesse to his fathers’ waiting arms and deliver a scolding to Genji to likes of which would make their mother proud. 

Hanzo exits the car when his door swings open, strides through the airport doors and follows the signs to the terminal. He sees people acknowledge him as he passes by, some with fear and some with a level of respect. It is no different but it...feels different. He feels small with the empty space at his side that should be filled with excited energy and a lazy drawl.

He feels even smaller when he spots Jack and Gabe. 

They’re chatting over their luggage, arguing lightly if the annoyed look on Gabe’s face and the teasing smile on Jack’s is any indication. He forces himself to keep walking when Gabe’s eyes shift over, lighting when they see him before narrowing in an instant as he glances around Hanzo.

“Where in the fuck--”

“Not here.” Hanzo says roughly, eyes sweeping over the people clearly paying more attention to them than they should be. “In my car. But not here.”

Gabe scowls, an irritated growl bubbling from his chest, but Jack steps in front of him, between their bodies. 

“Hanzo...is everything alright?”

“No.” He answers honestly, heart aching like it’s going to pound out of his chest, a most curious ache over his left arm like the tattoo there is trying to burn it’s way free from his flesh.

“No, it is not.”


	9. Chapter 9

“So Jesse is...what?” Jack’s voice is rough, too torn from shouting down Gabe and trying to hold back tears. “Dead? In a ditch somewhere?”

“If he had been killed, we would have recovered the body. They would have--” Hanzo swallows tightly, hands too tight around his cup of tea, “they would have made sure we found it. I believe him to still be alive.”

Jack sighs, shoves up the odd red glasses that protect his eyes to scrub at them with a sense of exhaustion. 

“I knew a few men who went MIA and came back. Sometimes...sometimes it’s gentler on their souls to hope they’ve been killed.”

“Jesse is strong. You raised him strong. I have faith.”

“Someone needs to.” Jack glances over Hanzo’s shoulder, into the cold of the garden that Gabe is currently pacing around. “I know Gabe. He’s already trying to figure out how he’s going to have to bury his kid.”

At Hanzo’s soft sound of rebuttal, a sad smile crosses Jack’s face.

“We’ve buried enough people to be realistic about it all. It still hurt like nothing else. But it...if it comes down to it, you won’t have to do it alone.”

“This is all my fault.” Hanzo whispers into his tea. “Had I not brought Jesse into my world, he wouldn’t have been in this situation. He wouldn’t have been targeted.”

“Jesse is a grown man, no matter how much we wanna see him as a scrawny kid still playing baseball in the backyard. He would’ve found a way to get into trouble with or without any help from you.”

Jack Morrison is the sort of man Hanzo would have traded and bartered his way into having in his service. Level headed and calm, approaching the situation with reason. It is not better than Gabe’s fiery anger, but Hanzo can see how the two balance each other out well.

An idle thought crosses his mind, wondering if people see Jesse and himself in balance as well.

“So, where do we go first?”

Hanzo twists at Gabriel's sudden interjection, the man standing with feet planted firm and arms crossed across his chest. The sun against his shoulders is a backdrop of power and Hanzo feels...leveled with the man. He’s no longer glaring at Hanzo like he’s rather see him dead than breathing, but as an equal. A partner. 

Even if only because circumstance demands it. 

“I am waiting for--”

There’s a scream that rings through the compound, echoing through the rooms and the garden. Hanzo shoots to his feet, the pounding of feet following him as he tracks the sound. He makes it to the front hall before he skids to a stop, staring at the scene before him with dull eyes.

It’s something out of Genji’s garish action movies. But this is achingly real. 

A crude ice box lays spilled open on the floor, water mixing with blood coming from the stump of a severed forearm. One of his maids is collapsed against the far wall, shaking and pale, a hand clapped over her mouth. Others crowd around her, trying to comfort and move her from her position. Hanzo strides forward, gently touching the skin of the forearm, tipping the limb over.

As he thought.

He plucks a seal from the limp fingers, carefully tucked there with cruel hands, and steps back.

“Is that…”

“No fucking doubt. Those cocksucking sonsof--”

“There is a letter.” Hanzo glances at the maids, interrupting Gabriel’s anger. “It would be best were we given privacy to read it. Take her to rest and recover.”

They scurry off, leaving him to turn to Jack and Gabe who step in close. Gabriel’s eyes keep drifting to the arm, like he can’t fully tear his gaze away, and Hanzo has to force himself to stay focused not to do the same thing.

A human can live without an arm. Humans can survive losing many limbs, Hanzo knows this well due to watching his father and uncles work as a child. 

But this is a warning. And a unsubtle one at that.

Classless. Hanzo will teach Watanabe how respectable Yakuza make threats. 

“What does it say?” Jack isn’t looking at the arm, whether because he can’t bring himself to or because his vision is so bad he can barely make it out to begin with. 

Hanzo unrolls the scroll, lips curling as he reads the sloppy writing on the page.

“Jesse and Genji are safe...for the moment. Jesse is fighting back, hence the… _punishment_ he’s received.” 

Gabe spits out a vicious curse.

“I am to attend a meeting tonight, alone. They wish to have it held here, at Shimada castle, where the bell honoring the great dragons lies. Watanabe says he wishes to ‘see which of us the dragons howl in support of’.” Hanzo scowls, scoffs at the very notion.

“He is an arrogant fool. It will be the death of him.”

“Yes.” Gabriel’s voice is low, a threat of darkness, the grave itself rumbling it’s call from his chest. “It will.”

“He just wants to meet?” Jack leans closer, peers at the letter like it will tell him more. “That seems...he must want more.”

“He wants me dead.” Hanzo sighs, hands the scroll over. “This is not uncommon. My father and grandfather dealt with similar instances. He will have me hand over control of the Shimada clan and then kill me so the claim will remain uncontested. If I had to guess, he will either have me shot or throw me over the wall and onto the floor below.”

“You sound so...calm about all of that.”

“My life is filled with death and threats, Mister Morrison. I’ve grown rather used to them by now.”

Jack frowns, opening his mouth to speak, before Gabriel beats him to it. 

“Do it.”

“Gabe!”

“No,” Gabe isn’t even acknowledging Jack, staring at Hanzo, meeting his gaze levelly. “Do it. Meet him. If the area I’m thinking of is where he wants to meet….plenty of places to hide. Good for us, bad for him.”

“He will have people posted to kill Jesse and Genji if he is placed in danger.”

“Tell him no deal until you see them safe and sound. Make him bring them here.”

For a split second, Hanzo sees the commander Gabriel Reyes once was. Brutal and practical, but intelligent. He can see him saying the same things time and time again, negotiating for the safety of hostages while keeping the target safe. 

Everything in Hanzo’s past is urging him to say no. To sacrifice everything for the Clan. To put everything above its sanctity and safety, including his own life--and his brother’s.

But he is no longer the scared child, compliant in the wishes of the elders to do anything and everything they might command. 

The Clan can fall to pieces under his feet. He just wants his family back.

“I will summon guards. Place them and order them as you see fit.” Gabriel nods sharply, once. “And I shall send a message to his business detailing our requests for Jesse and Genji to be brought with him. We will need to usher all but the trained servants from this place.”

“We’ll need to get a Doctor too. Jesse is...going to need one. Genji too.” Jack says quietly, Hanzo catching sight of his fingers intertwining with Gabe’s down at their sides. 

“I need weapons.” 

“You may have whatever you ask for. You need only let the guards know.”

Gabriel’s smile is the thing of nightmares, vicious enough to make a dragon proud.

His arm burns once more, as does his soul. 

He will have his family back by the time the moon is high in the sky. And he will ensure that once Jesse has been returned, _nothing_ will tear them apart again.

.O.

Pain greets Jesse the next time he swims to consciousness. It’s an effort, beating back the searing throbbing in his arm and fighting the exhaustion just to open his eyes. But he can feel the weight of a person leaning heavily against him, knows that going back to sleep is the coward’s way of dealing with all this.

If he’s going to die, he’s going to die with his eyes open, not staring and screaming into darkness. 

He shifts with a groan, soft and wounded, and hears an answering whine from his side. Genji looks half-dazed when he cracks his eyes open and glances down, looking up at him with bloodshot eyes ringed in exhaustion.

“Where?” His voice is ruined, broken and raw from screaming during the trauma.

He can’t bring himself to look down at his arm yet. He knows it’s gone, though there’s a distant itch on his missing hand. It’ll be that way for a while, he knows. Jack and Gabe had enough friends from the war missing various body parts for him to have learned what it’s like when a piece of a person is gone.

“Car.” Genji’s no better off, voice little more than a whisper. “Going...somewhere. Not sure.”

Body dump, likely. He and Genji have served their purpose, if the joyful glee he remembers on Watanabe’s face is any indication. They’ll go after Hanzo next and that thought is what gives him the energy to push himself upright with his remaining arm. They’re in the back of some car, repurposed taxi, it appears. There’s a thick black screen between them and the driver and Jesse can see the metal woven into a tight net along it.

No breaking it for a hijacking, even if he had a quarter of the energy required for that sort of thing. 

Genji sits up next to him, groaning and holding onto his side with a wince of pain. He’s probably got more than a few broken ribs to match the bruises and split lip he’s sporting. The men hadn’t been gentle as they tried to get information out of them.

Doesn’t matter. They could kill him and Jesse wouldn’t say a word. At least he’ll go to his grave with some goddamn honor. 

“You need a hospital.” Genji says quietly, reaching out to run gentle fingers down the length of his left arm.

Their captives had been nice enough to close the open wound with the flat edge of a burning hot sword, so Jesse isn’t bleeding out, but Genji’s right. The dirty gauze they’d thrown around the end of his arm is an infection waiting to happen.

Jesse can’t help but chuckle, mania setting in at the absurdity of worrying about infections when death is knocking on his door. 

“M’sorry,” he mumbles at Genji’s alarmed glance. “Sorry. S’just...don’t think I’ll live long enough for a good doc to patch me up.”

“I’m so sorry, Jesse.” Genji mutters, losing what little balance he had and slumping against his side once more. “If I hadn’t...I shouldn’t have…”

“Hush.” Jesse pets at his hair limply, strength and consciousness already draining from him. “Y’didn’t drag me there. I went willingly. S’been an honor, Genji.”

“Don’t. We’re not dead yet.” Genji mumbles into his shirt, slowly falling back into darkness if his slurred tone is any indication.

Yet.

Yet means there’s hope but what hope do they have? The only thing on Jesse’s mind now is deciding how spitefully he goes out. Adrenaline and hate is a hell of a cocktail and the second he’s free of this car, he’s going to try to take a few with him to meet the maker. 

Seeing Hanzo one last time woulda been nice. But better that he doesn’t.

Better that this ends with happy thoughts being their last time spent together. 

Tears fall finally as he thinks on Hanzo, on his parents. He wishes he could’ve said goodbye, seen them all one last time. Jesse’s eyes close on a blink to wipe away his tears and stay closed, the darkness taking him once more. There’s a curious warmth that surrounds him as he succumbs, almost too hot, a bright light in his fading mind. 

Jesse gets the impression of feral teeth and bright blue scales before it all disappears in the blissful release of unconsciousness.

.O.

It seems disrespectful to do what Hanzo is doing. The incense and the hat and the feather--memories long tattered of an affectionate voice calling Genji a sparrow with a pat to his head--are all too close to wake offerings to ease Hanzo’s worry.

But he needs to appear as though he’s in mourning when Watanabe and his group arrives. A man consumed with grief is a man not thinking clearly, willing to do anything to ease his pain.

Hanzo is counting on Watanabe being dull and stupid enough to believe his suffering, even if it is mostly fake.

The moon is starting to rise on his right as he kneels in front of the great bell, watching the tangled dragons fight. It throws shadows on his vision, on his mind, and Hanzo tries to center himself as best he can. He winds up mindlessly staring at the picture, a now familiar burn starting to wind it’s way up his arm. 

His father had always said the dragons lived in Genji and himself. Something that had horrified him as a child, screaming out his displeasure at the thought of being compared to such an arrogant thing as the Dragon of the South Wind. He would never let his ego get the best of him as the great dragon had, never bring such pain and suffering to Genji as had been wrought upon the Dragon of the North. 

“In a way...I suppose I did.” He murmurs to himself, to the dragons, to the quiet night air. 

He allowed Genji to complete this nonsense mission. Didn’t voice his protests when they lingered and died on his tongue like a poison. He could have saved his brother were he not so concerned with appearing jovial and gentle in Jesse’s eyes. 

He could have saved them both.

Shadows shift off to his right, creating by the rising moon and hiding a threat greater than his own self-hatred. He’d watched Gabriel prepare himself for a battle, strapping weapons and armor to himself as though it was a second skin. The man changed somehow, when preparing for a fight, and Hanzo can only feel pleased that if something goes wrong and he does not survive this...Gabriel will.

Death will not take everything from Jesse.

There is sound off to his left that drags Hanzo from his thoughts, the loud sounds of men who do not fear being caught. He glances over as the great wooden gates open enough to allow entrance to a group and his breath catches in his throat. Jesse and Genji are both there, being half-dragged, half-carried by two of Watanabe’s men. They both look to be alive, if heavily injured, and Hanzo swallows down bile as his eyes trace Jesse’s left arm down as far as it goes, before continuing on as though the limb was still there.

“Shimada-san.” Watanabe is too loud in the quiet of the night and Hanzo feels righteous fury burn low in stomach at the sight of his smile. “I believe we have business, you and I.”

“Indeed we do.” He rises from his kneeling stance, body unfolding, the sword at his hip knocking into his thigh with the movement. 

His ceremonial robes are all part of a ploy, an act to fool Watanabe, but they feel...right. If he can call the gods attention in any way tonight, for help in this endeavor, he’ll gladly take it. 

“Mourning already?”

His clothing hasn’t gone unnoticed, it seems, though Hanzo sees a few of the guards flinch at the sight of his sword.

“Do you mean to tell me there is no need?”

“What good are bargaining chips if they are dead?” Watanabe reaches out, grabs a fistful of Jesse’s hair and yanks his head upright, cracking his free hand against an already bruised and dirty cheek. “Wake up, dog! Come greet your master one more time before you’re back to the streets.”

A roar builds in Hanzo’s chest, presses against his gritted teeth, held back only by years of training and his own lack of breath. It’s primal and animal and Hanzo wants nothing more than to use it to bolster himself to attack.

He can’t. He cannot be foolish when he is so close to having what is most precious returned to him. 

Watanabe and his men cross the stone garden, stomping mindlessly across it, coming to a stop on the low platform that runs the around of the bell house. The jostling, purposeful no doubt, wakes Jesse and Hanzo nearly sags with relief when he raises his head with a soft groan.

“H-Han?”

“I am here.” He says softly, watching Jesse try to focus on him with exhausted eyes. “Be of ease, my love. I am here.”

“How sweet.” Watanabe sneers, before clicking his fingers. “But I want your attention on me, Shimada. We have things we need to discuss.”

“I imagine I already know.” Hanzo watches Jesse carefully, watches the way he reaches out for Genji once he spots him close, weak fingers gripping his brother’s torn and bloodied shirt. “You want me to hand over control of the Shimada Clan. A passing of rite--done just in time before my death. No one to contest your claim, no one to argue your rightful place.”

“Well, aren’t you just the top of your class.” Watanabe sneers. “But, no, it’s not _I_ who wants the control. I represent Talon, they’ve promised me a handsome reward for removing you from their way.”

He chuckles, like he’s told himself a rather amusing joke.

“Of course, I would’ve done it for far less than they promised. You’ve been a thorn in my side for far too long, Shimada.”

 _Talon_. Hanzo knew they were going to be a problem sooner or later. It explains the well armored men at Watanabe’s side. The organization has been slowly taking over the smaller Yakuza groups, using their influence to grow themselves like some sort of self-gorging beast. 

The Shimada Clan had whetherd their repeated attacks, standing strong. With Hanzo gone and the Clan under their control, all of Hanamura, and soon Tokyo and Japan as a whole, will fall under their influence.

A country with a military as strong and fierce as theirs would be a terrible thing to have fall under the control of such a disgusting organization. 

“I will comply. I will do as you wish me to, with minimal resistance. _Provided_ ,” Hanzo bites out when Watanabe begins to grin with happiness, “that my brother and Jesse are released. They serve no purpose to you now. Let them go.”

Watanabe snaps his fingers and Hanzo’s breath catches in his throat when Jesse and his brother are thrown against the stairs at his feet, both of them too weak to catch themselves, slumping onto the wood. Jesse grasps at his kyudo-gi when he kneels, hand too weak for a proper grip, mouth opening and closing like even speaking is too tough a challenge.

“Hush, my love.” Hanzo brushes a bit of hair back from his face, takes a precious moment to tangle his fingers in the filthy and bloodied locks. 

It is too similar to their moments of intimacy and it _hurts_. Hurts like little else in this world is able to hurt him.

There are sudden rushing footsteps and Hanzo hears the shuffle and click of guns being drawn even as he glares up at Watanabe. He’s not looking at him, tracking Jack’s path as the man makes his way into the bell house, strides purposeful and face twisted into a mask of agony as he focuses on Jesse.

“I said to be alone!” Watanabe hisses, drawing his own gun from his pocketing and pointing it at Jack, who halts momentarily. “Who are you?!”

“I’m his dad.” Jack spits with a nod at Jesse. “And I’m getting my son away from all of you assholes.”

Watanabe seems amused as Jack comes over, gently taking Jesse from Hanzo’s hold and hauling him to his feet, good arm slung over broad shoulders. He helps Jesse limp over to the far right side, leaning him in the small alcove next to the stairs before helping Genji in the same way.

Exactly as they had planned. Out of sight and out of firing range. Unless the men advance up the stairs and into the bell house, Jesse and Genji will be safe from any further harm.

“How cute. The poor mutt has a father.” Watanabe levels the gun at Hanzo as he rises to his feet. “More witnesses to your demise. You Shimadas always _did_ like a crowd.”

“He has nothing to do with this. Nor does Jesse.” Hanzo stands straight and true, staring down the barrel and at the man hiding behind the weapon. “Our fight is between us, Watanabe. Leave them out of this.”

His grip is sloppy. The hold of a man unused to holding such a weapon, preferring others to do his dirty work for him. 

Hanzo can use that.

“Our ‘fight’ is nearly over. You’re outnumbered, Shimada, and out-gunned.” With his free hand, Watanabe digs a phone from his pocket, a small red light blinking as he holds it up towards Hanzo. “Now, I’d politely suggest you hand over control of your Clan. Clearly, please. I’d hate for there to be any disputes.”

Hanzo braces himself, quiets and steadies himself as his father and his old sensei’s had taught him as a child. He hears the wind whistling through the trees, feels the cold against his skin, can smell the faint sharpness in the air.

Lightening during a storm. Powerful and majestic. A comforting scent that has followed him all his life.

“My name is Shimada Hanzo. I hereby relinquish all control of the Shimada Clan. I decree that on my death, all ownership be transferred--”

Thunder growls on the horizon, a rare winter thunderstorm rolling in, echoing the snarling beast that decorates his arm, which seems to writhe in anticipation.

“--to my younger brother.”

Watanabe laughs, cocks the gun and readjusts it at Hanzo’s head.

“Adorable. A last stand. Honorable, I suppose, but it won’t do.” He snarls, “Properly. Before my men are forced to kill every last one of you.”

“What men?”

The voice seems to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once, echoing and vibrating the very wood under his feet. Gabriel Reyes is a blur as he drops from the small balcony above them, behind Watanabe, guns already drawn. Blood splashes too bright in the moonlight as he spins, neatly and carefully taking out each and every guard behind Watanabe. The man barely has time to react, gun drooping ever so slightly at the overly loud blast of shotguns firing in the quiet of the night. 

Gabriel’s weapon of choice, he’d said. Hanzo can see why.

The men fall limp and dead to the wood and stones, bodies strewn, torn apart by buckshot and the anger of a father whose only son has been injured by the careless hands of others. 

Watanabe fumbles at his phone, pressing things wildly before freezing when a shotgun is placed neatly at the base of his skull. He raises his gun once more, leveling it at Hanzo’s face with shaky hands.

“I’ve already sent it. Kill me if you want.” His finger wavers over the trigger. “But I’ll take him with me.”

“Dad,” Jesse groans softly from off to Hanzo’s right, almost too quietly to hear over the rushing blood in Hanzo’s ears. “Please. Please, no.”

Gabriel falters for a moment before the shotgun falls and he carefully steps aside. He climbs the stairs, confidant as Hanzo is that Watanabe’s gun will not waver from where it’s pointed. Hanzo hears him fall heavily to his knees, a broken whisper of “mijo” falling from his lips as he kneels over Jesse’s broken body.

“It is over, Shimada. Talon is on their way.” Watanabe is pale, weak without his back-up, but takes a few steps forward up the stairs nonetheless. 

The gun is now pressed to Hanzo’s forehead. Even with shaking hands, a shot this close won’t miss. Hanzo’s body seems to light up from the inside, an unholy burn that starts at his left wrist and scorch its way upwards. Lightening and power in his very veins. 

“Let them come.” He says quietly, eyes open and focused on Watanabe’s own dilated and frantic gaze. “Someone will need to recover your body.”

He sees the finger placed on the trigger tighten, hears a quiet and desperate shout of “No!” even as he reaches out. His hand makes contact with Watanabe’s chest, an unnatural and inhuman blue glowing from under the kyudo-gi at his wrist, practically vibrating with rage and unchecked potential.

The last thing Hanzo sees before a gunshot rings out and the world fades to a painful black is the power rushing forwards, a gaping maw of teeth and brilliant yellow mane shooting forwards from his arm, tearing itself free from his flesh.

The Dragons have never answered his prayers before but Hanzo offers one more as he falls weak backwards onto the wood of the bell house.

“Consume my foes...and protect those I love.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Where...am I?” Hanzo feels disjointed...and cold.

The snow beneath his feet is almost unbearable on bare skin, but is is a minor annoyance compared to his confusion. He’s dressed in his ceremonial robes still, high atop a mountain, looking down over the city of Hanamura below. He can see Shimada Castle in all it’s glory, large and ostentatious in the face of the bustling city around it.

It feels too hazy, like a dream within a dream.

“You are where you are truly supposed to be.”

The voice has no face, just a echoing tone that shakes him down to his marrow and has Hanzo glancing furiously around to find the source. Nothing appears to him, nothing steps from the fog and snow to put figure to voice.

“Genji would say that line seems almost too cinematic to be true.” Hanzo murmurs, heart aching. “But Jesse would love it.”

“Jesse. Odd that your first thought of him also includes love.”

“Leave him out of this.” Hanzo snaps, temper and patience worn thin. “If you are death come to take me to see my ancestors, let us be quick about this. I am sure many of them have things to disparage me about.”

“Foolish boy.” The world tips slightly, not enough to send him off his feet but to have him blinking furious in an attempt to right himself.

When he opens his eyes, a dragon stares down at him, face smooth and eyes full of judgement. But not poised to strike. Hanzo feels his breath leave him all at once and sinks to his knees, body too weak to hold itself upright in the face of such a magnificent beast.

“Dragon Lord.”

“I was...once.” The dragon rumbles, dipping its head slightly, large eyes fluttering closed. “But in seeking power, I slew my dearest brother and lost all right I had to claim any sort of godhood.”

His father’s nighttime stories were true. 

“But you did not.” The dragon rights itself, opens its eyes once more. “You chose your brother, your love, over your power. In your last words, you begged not for salvation from death...but for protection for them.”

“I would do it again.” Hanzo whispers fiercely. “Time and again, if given the choice. A thousand deaths and I would not waver from my decision.”

“And it is why a new era dawns.” The dragons gestures with one massive paw towards where the sun begins to rise at Hanzo’s back, gentle rays of warmth spilling over his legs. “An era of peace and prosperity, without the bloodshed and violence of the past to mar it.”

“I am...glad.” Hanzo closes his eyes as grief and happiness war within him, both emotions choking him. “If Genji and Jesse will be happy and safe...it is all I care about.”

“Even now, you worry more for them than yourself,” the Great Dragon marvels, respect in it’s booming tone. “Truly...a new dawn breaks for us all.”

“I am ready, Dragon Lord.” Hanzo climbs to his feet, tears itchy on his cheeks but he doesn’t wipe them away.

He has nothing to hide from what awaits him beyond this moment. His brother will be safe, Jesse is reunited with his parents. He set out to provide for Jesse, to give him anything and everything he wanted.

He has accomplished his goal. He will go willingly into the dark night now.

“Ready, perhaps, yes. But we are not ready for you.” The Dragon smiles, though his mouth does not move, voice filled with wonder and hope. “Awaken, young master. You still have much to do in the world you live in.”

.O.

When Hanzo opens his eyes next, his experience is far less pleasant. Machines beep on either side of him, something incredibly scratchy laid atop his shoulder, pain shooting down his left arm the second he moves. There’s a rustle and a surprised “oh!” before a face leans over into his view. 

The man staring down at his is unfamiliar, though Hanzo feels no threat. He wears benign smile, eyes soft and gentle, a decorated array of dots on his forehead. The large necklace of orbs around his neck clanks together as he gently presses his hands to Hanzo’s chest, keeping him in place.

“Welcome back, Mr. Shimada. Please, do not attempt to move. You are still recovering.”

“Recovering from what? And who are you?”

“He said you might wake up agitated.” A small smile plays about the man’s mouth as he settles back, sunlight stretching across his brown skin. “My name is Zenyatta Mondatta and you are safe in Shimada Castle. You’re currently recovering from an assassination attempt.”

“Yes, I….I remember.” Hanzo closes his eyes, fights through the pain to recall the memories of before the Great Dragon appeared. “I should...be dead. The shot was close enough to be deadly.”

“So they say. But something happened at that moment, something your brother has been coy about describing. Whatever it was, it made Mr. Watanabe lose balance, his shot going wide. The bullet landed in your shoulder instead of your head. Painful, yes, but not nearly as deadly as you assumed.”

The man touches lightly at the blanket covering his shoulder, right above where the pain and itch emanate from. 

“It would seem favor smiled upon you, Shimada Hanzo.”

“My brother….where is Genji, is he alright? And Jesse?” Hanzo tries to sit up, grimaces at the immediate pain and falls onto one elbow, grasping at the loose pants Zenyatta wears.

“They are fine, both of them. Please, do not stress yourself unnecessarily. You are still recovering.” Zenyatta’s tone, while still gentle, brooks no argument and Hanzo finds himself relaxing back against the pillow, guided by soft but firm hands.

“Their injuries…”

“Treated well. Genji had a few broken bones but they have been wrapped and set. Your brother’s boundless energy for life has let him bounce back quickly.”

There’s a story in the wry note of Zenyatta’s voice, but Hanzo cannot focus on it now.

“And Jesse? His arm…”

Pain laces through him, but not from his wound this time. He wasn’t fast enough to save Jesse’s arm. Such a loss to a man so used to being independent...it will hurt dearly. Hanzo will do everything in his power to make it up to him.

“Ah...I believe they’re fitting him for a rough prosthesis now.” Zenyatta taps a finger to his chin, eyes slits of amused mischief. “You have very good connections, Mr. Shimada. I was unaware one could catch a flight from France to Japan so quickly.”

“Amelie…”

“She brought a man along with her. Mr. Ogundimu, I believe it was? His family is incredibly skilled creators of prosthetics. I imagine, once he gets used to it, Jesse will have no more trouble adjusting to his prosthesis than a child would adjust to growing limbs as they age.”

“How….wonderful.” Hanzo’s eyes drift closed, exhaustion and pain warring with his desire to stay awake. “I want...to see them.”

“In due time.” Zenyatta’s face lingers in his mind even as Hanzo slips back towards the painless black of unconsciousness.

He reminds Hanzo of the kitsune of legend. Teasing and coy, but never truly harmful to those who do not deserve it. A harbinger of judgement, a weigher of the scales of one’s soul.

He hopes he weighs well.

.O.

Hanzo opens his eyes again to the moonlight now streaming through the blinds, the full moon bright enough to cast shadows. There’s a light weight on his stomach and a far heavier one weighing down his right arm. He shifts with a grunt, trying to free his arm from whatever it’s trapped under, and is rewarded with a huff and a soft gasp.

Jesse shoots up from his side, leaning over him, hands cupping his face and bringing them close together.

“Hanzo! Oh god, darlin’, you’re awake. You’re okay.”

“I am, I am,” he feels too tongue tied, relief a better drug than any the doctor’s or Zenyatta could have given him. “And so are you.”

“Hm? Oh, god, yeah.” Jesse leans back slightly, just enough that Hanzo can see the healing bruises fading from his face. “I’m all good. Genji too. He’ll want t’know you’re up, let me hollar for him and--”

“In a moment.” It takes herculean effort to raise his arm enough to catch Jesse’s shirt but he manages, stopping him in his tracks. “I need to...I want to talk to you.”

“Yeah…” Jesse drops his head, all but collapses into a chair next to the bed. “I figured you might.”

“That night, when you and Genji were taken--”

“It was my fault. Shoulda figured that girl was a distraction. Shouldn’t have picked up my drink once I took my eyes off it.” Jesse blurts in a rush of breath, drawl tripping and stringing words together. “It was my fault Genji and I got drugged and my fault we got taken. I shoulda fought harder, shoulda found a way for Genji to get out. M’sorry, Hanzo. I’m so damn sorry I’ll never be able to explain.”

He takes a deep breath while Hanzo is still reeling, set off kilter from the pain medicine and the sudden change in where he thought the topic was going. 

“I understand, y’know? Wouldn’t want someone like me hangin’ round after I let shit like that happen either. So I’ll...I’ll go ghost soon as you’re all recovered. I just hope...well, Pa’s meeting with his surgery doctors now and I know I ain’t got the right to ask but if you’ll still take care of all that….or if not it’s alright. Just offerin’ was more than what I expected and--”

“ _Jesse_!” Hanzo stops his ramblings with an upheld hand. “Please….stop. Help me sit up.”

It takes a moment, Hanzo having to stop and breath through the pain of movement a few times, but he finally gets his weight balanced, his good arm braced on one knee to keep him upright. Jesse’s hat, which had been resting on his stomach, lays in his lap now. He moves carefully, trying not to jostle his left arm too much, and uses the fingers of it to trace the brim. 

“I do not want you to leave. I _never_ want you to leave. I am just as culpable for even allowing you and Genji to go after Watanabe in the first place. It would be foolish of me to come so far and still lose what I fought so hard to protect.” He watches as Jesse swallows thickly, pushing on though he feels a need to do the same to the growing knot in his throat.

“Jack will be taken care of, as will you. I know Satya and Amelie. Your prosthetic is not the first they have designed and it will not be the last.”

It’s crude, metal and bolts doing the job well enough, but it will never satisfy their specific needs. Likely by the end of it all, Jesse will have some absurd thing made of precious metals and be begging them both to stop making adjustments. 

“And I...would never lay blame on your shoulders for what happened. I should have told you the risks that come with being involved with me. I should never have allowed you to be placed in danger.”

“Darlin’,” Jesse’s voice is achingly gentle and soft and Hanzo deserves _none_ of it. “I find trouble. Or it finds me. Ain’t no way you coulda kept me safe forever, so don’t go blamin’ this whole mess on yourself.”

“I’ll blame Genji,” Hanzo tries for levity and it works a bit, if Jesse’s sudden laugh is any indication. “He’s used to it by now.”

“About that…” Jesse scrubs at his scruff, seems to be searching for the right words, but Hanzo holds up a hand to halt them.

“I’m aware. The video was distributed. Whether or not the messenger is dead, the message was still sent. My brother is now the rightful leader of our Clan.”

He relaxes back against the pillows, drained but not yet ready to sleep. He’s slept enough, he feels, and there are far more important things for him in the land of the alert. 

“I deserve the break. He can lead the Clan. I have...far more important things to take care of.”

“Oh yeah?” Jesse leans closer, nearly falling off the edge of the chair, and traces gentle fingers up Hanzo’s right forearm. “Mind sharing those plans?”

“I asked you….so many nights ago...I told you that you owed me for the favor you begged from me.”

“Still haven’t paid up on that, if I recall correctly.”

“Stay.” Hanzo turns, lifts his hand to place it on Jesse’s cheek, cup it carefully like it’s a precious jewel. “That is what I ask in return. Stay with me. For as long as you will have me.”

“Might be a mighty long time I’ll hang around, darlin’. Sure you’re on for taking in that sort of thing?”

Hanzo smiles, pulls gently until Jesse has to come out of his seat or risk being pulled off of it. He brings him in close, so close he can feel the warmth of Jesse’s breath on his face, the heavy pressure of his prosthetic bracing him on the bed.

“I am up for anything. Love…love can give a man power enough to withstand any trouble that may come his way.”

“Aw...hell.” Jesse says hoarsely, tears spreading across his eyes that he tries and fails to blink away. “I love you too, darlin’. I have for...for forever now. Shoulda told you sooner.”

“Our plans do not always go the way we wish.” Hanzo feels a tickle of warmth down his arm, the pain in his shoulder fading to nothing more than an annoyance. “But sometimes...sometimes the outcome is better than we ever could have imagined.”

As Jesse hiccups a sob and leans in, capturing his mouth in a kiss that is desperate and wet and so achingly sweet it nearly bowls him over, Hanzo feels as though the Dragon is smiling upon him. He has done many things in his life, both good and bad. Hanzo regrets none of them in this moment.

If this is to be his fate, if this is the culmination of all he has done in his life….Hanzo would do it all over again.

A dragon’s treasure is not collected easily or without strife. But it is always, and without fail, worth every single moment of it all.


	11. Epilogue

“For the love of everything I hold dear, _please_ take back control of the Shimada Clan.”

Hanzo sips at his tea, watching as Genji throws himself atop the kotatsu, sending papers flying everywhere. 

“I am terribly sorry, but what would my honor be if I did not hold to my word? The Shimada Clan is under your control now, Genji. And you are doing so very well.”

He’s teasing, but the words still hold true. In the aftermath of everything that happened six months ago, Genji has stepped up in ways Hanzo always knew he could. They’ve weeded out any groups who would seek to seize control or poison the people against them, turned Hanamura and the surrounding areas into a peaceful paradise that people from all over scramble to visit.

Jack and Gabriel, though retired and living most of their days in relaxation, are more than happy to help train any who wish to lend their hands to helping protect the peace. The security is now better armed and more well trained than it has been in decades. Hanzo secretly thinks Gabriel just enjoys having people to teach again, but he keeps himself quiet.

Their relationship is steadied, but not easy. It will never be, he feels. But there is mutual respect now and that is more than he had hoped for.

Zenyatta and Genji rebuilt the monks clinic into something much larger, other doctors and medical professionals flocking to it as a beacon of hope. Akande Ogundimu had donated a large sum, as well as some of his most proficient employees, and The Iris is now a provider of dreams for those needing prosthetics. 

Last Hanzo heard, Amelie and Lena and Emily had also stopped by, asking politely and demurely--though he would bet those words describe her lovers more than Amelie herself--about IVF.

“And besides, if you’ve somehow forgotten,” Hanzo takes an unnecessarily long sip of his drink, “I am dead, brother. I cannot take control of a Clan from beyond the grave.”

It had been easier to do once the video Watanabe had surfaced had made its way into the public view. His body was burnt, charred beyond recognition after the encounter, and it had taken a few explanations and some exchanges of money, but the authorities were only too happy to “sadly announce that Shimada Hanzo’s body had been recovered from the scene.”

Hanzo is told the wake for his funeral was marvelous. Not that he would have known, of course. He was far too busy recovering from his actual injuries and planning the future with Jesse.

“We’ll create a miracle.” Genji glares up at him from the table before pouting when he sees it has no effect. “Hanzo, please! I barely have time to see Zenyatta with our new responsibilities and it’s… _seriously_ cutting into my love life.”

“And what would Zenyatta think of you trying to shirk your responsibilities, hm?”

Genji’s groan is all the answer Hanzo needs.

He sets his cup down and pushes himself to his feet, dusting off imaginary dirt from his clothes as he does so.

“I won’t keep you from your duties any longer, brother. I can only _imagine_ how stressful it is to run an empire when one’s sibling isn’t content to do their fair share of the work.”

“I hate you.” Genji snaps into the wood of the table.

“I’m certain.” Hanzo hums, patting his head as he strides by. “Do try to keep the castle in one piece while Jesse and I are gone this weekend. Jack and Gabriel are here if you need anything.”

“I am a grown man!” Genji yells.

“Mmm,” Hanzo pauses, one hand on the doorway, glancing back.

Sometimes, if he waits too long or if Genji looks too tired, he can see him on that night again. Broken and bloodied, hanging on to life by sheer determination. He knows Genji is still haunted by it too, has met him in the kitchens many a night when nightmares chased them from their beds.

But his brother is strong. Has always been strong, as Hanzo has. He will be fine, despite his protests about the responsibility he now has. And with Zenyatta’s calming presence in his life, Genji is nearly unrecognizable as the same reckless youth Hanzo grew up with.

“I love you, Genji.”

Genji’s head lifts, as does his finger, a salute of the brotherly kind that has Hanzo snorting.

“Fuck you. Get out of this house.”

A pause and then--

“I love you too, Hanzo.”

.O.

“So these are hot springs, huh?” 

Hanzo’s eyes lazily drift open, having fallen shut to enjoy the warm water against his skin, chasing away aches and strains he never knew he had. Jesse is standing by the edge, not too far from him, one foot raised as he tests the water with his foot. He looks absolutely delectable, a small towel all that remains around his waist, and Hanzo is suddenly _very_ glad he’d rented out this portion of the estate to relax in.

He finds himself extremely...protective of the view he’s currently receiving.

“You’re meant to get in naked, if you’re comfortable with that.” He purrs, Jesse cocking an eyebrow before brazenly letting the towel fall to his feet with a quick movement.

He’s dexterous with the newest model of prosthetic, the final if Jesse’s aggravated grumbling is any indication. It shines even in the low light of the lanterns nearby, moonlight catching on the precious blue gems embedded in it for decoration. There’s a garish sort of skull on it, something Jesse had flushed and said was an ode to Gabe.

After that night, a comparison to Death itself seems fitting for the older man.

“Should I take this off or…” Jesse fingers the edge of the prosthetic where it near seamlessly meets the flesh part of his arm. 

“I’m nearly certain it’s waterproof. I cannot imagine Satya would have designed one that was not. But if you feel more comfortable,” Hanzo shrugs, “do as you please.”

“Think I’ll keep it on then.” Jesse steps into the water, creating tiny ripples that splash the water higher on Hanzo’s chest. “Never know what I might need two hands for.”

Hanzo hums, closes his eyes just slightly and tips his head backwards, feeling lazy and free as Jesse advances on him. He raises his hands from the water, just enough to capture Jesse’s hips when he stops in front of him and tug insistently. Jesse complies with a laugh, thighs splitting over his own as his weight sinks down, another blanket of warmth against the still cold air of the last stages of winter. 

“Howdy, handsome. What’s a fella like you doin’ in a place like this?”

“Relaxing,” Hanzo growls, skating careful nails across the skin of Jesse’s ribs, counting on the warm water upping his sensitivity. “And being accosted by a incubus from my dreams.”

“Well, you’re a dragon.” Jesse rolls his hips, teasing and young and so achingly happy it makes Hanzo want to cease playing games and drag him back to their shared room. “Shouldn’t be too hard for somethin’ like you to beat somethin’ like little ol’ me.”

“One would think. But I find myself curiously...weak in your presence.”

Jesse murmurs a quiet “how ‘bout that?” before leaning forwards to pull him into a kiss. It starts gentle, both of them trying to draw this out, before Jesse shifts and his cock brushes against Hanzo’s and he _whines_ against Hanzo’s mouth. There’s a moment of static, lightning drawn down to Earth, before Hanzo fists the hair at the back of Jesse’s head and _devours_ him. It clearly startles Jesse, if his quiet whimpers and the lax scratch of fingers at his shoulders are any indication but Hanzo can’t bring himself to stop.

For once, for the first time since they’ve met, there is nothing to pull them apart. No interruptions to be made, no pressing matters either of them need attend to.

Jesse pulls back, huffs a soft laugh at Hanzo’s growl, before he pats at and finally catches Hanzo’s wrist. His prosthetic is warm from the water, a band of heat around his arm as Jesse drags it down and behind him. Hanzo knows well enough what Jesse wants, teases him with the too-harsh scrape of nails over the sensitive skin of one cheek, before he slides his hand carefully between.

And stops in place, breath caught in his chest at the feeling of warm plastic where he expected soft skin.

“Heh, surprise, darlin’.” Jesse smiles weakly, wriggling in place like he can’t sit still. “I figured...well, I’ve said it before. You have one hell of a cock. Figured maybe...cut out the middle man so we can get right down to it.”

“How...thoughtful.” Hanzo’s mind is spinning, filled with lewd and appealing images.

Jesse on his back, hands buried between his thighs as he works himself open. On his knees, cheek pressed into the floor, groaning quietly into the wood as he stretched himself. Had he called out Hanzo’s name? Come already once when the plug slipped inside, lost in his preparation and the idea of Hanzo providing something far better than what the plastic could offer?

“You are...a marvel.” Hanzo whispers, his free hand pulling Jesse in for a desperate kiss. “Insatiable boy. Come here.”

Jesse groans when Hanzo pulls lightly at the plug, testing the stretch and give of his muscles, hands catching at his shoulders when Hanzo uses the arch of his body to bite a mark into his throat. He pumps it back and forth, a mockery of what’s to come, and relishes in the feeling of Jesse practically vibrating in place with tension.

“Hanzo...please. Have mercy, darlin’.”

“Mercy? I think not.” He grins into the next bite, leaving a satisfying ring of red low on Jesse’s throat. “Not when you’ve been so cruel to me. Hiding such a thing, denying me the pleasure of stretching you out with my own hands.”

“I--I was tryin’ to be _nice_!” Jesse yelps at another sharp nip, grumbling as he fists Hanzo’s hair in his flesh hand. “Remind me y’don’t like surprises next time I feel like doin’ somethin’ like that.”

“I like surprises just fine,” Hanzo lets his mouth fall open in a mockery of Jesse’s gasp when the plug finally slides free, watching his face intently. “I just don’t like it when they deprive me of something.”

Jesse grumbles, breathless and moving his hips in mindless circles, trying to arch back into the light brush of Hanzo’s fingers against his hole. There’s a slickness there even under the water--thank the gods, Hanzo would have combusted on the spot had they had to go searching for new lube--and he carefully keeps his touch gentle, not letting Jesse take more than he’s ready to give.

“S-such a mean sonofabitch,” Jesse pants, open-mouthed and whining, pulling at Hanzo’s hair like a displeased child. “C’mon. I been waitin’ on this for...for forever.”

The sentiment is shared.

“It will ache,” Hanzo warns him, dropping his hand to his own cock, holding it steady against the clenching hole. “Be easy.”

Jesse doesn’t listen. Jesse _never_ listens. He drops his weight down, almost too hard, stealing the breath from Hanzo’s lungs with a punched out groan. He instantly grabs for Jesse’s hips, fingers digging too tightly into the skin, nails likely drawing blood as Jesse laughs breathlessly and rolls his hips.

“Oh _god_ , yeah. S’everythin’ I imagined it’d be.” He murmurs, rising up slightly before sinking down again, shaking when Hanzo bottoms out inside him. 

“You imagined it often?”

“Yeah.” Jesse sets his own rhythm, something Hanzo is content to allow.

It’s sloppy and unpracticed, but it’s good--it’s _amazing_ nonetheless. It’s need in its rawest form, Jesse unconcerned with putting on a show, mindlessly seeking his own pleasure. 

“Thought about it for forever. Thought about it the first night I spent with you, thought about it while we were both recoverin’. Thought about just sneakin’ into your room, climbin’ on for a ride.”

“I wouldn’t have stopped you,” Hanzo grits out, arching up into Jesse’s next bounce and sending a shockwave down his spine. “I would have allowed it-- _welcomed_ it.”

“I know, I know,” Jesse kisses him, sloppy from the movements he refuses to cease. “But I wanted--wanted it to be this good. Knew this would be perfect.”

He’s right. He’s always been right. Hanzo can’t imagine how frustrating it would have been if they had tried this before they were both recovered, too aching for the movements, wincing in pain at a wrong twist. 

Hanzo moves a hand, wraps it around Jesse’s cock, thumb twisting over the top on the upstroke. It’s how he knows Jesse likes to be touched, knows his body nearly as well as his own by now. Jesse arches back, braces his hands on Hanzo’s knees, and seems torn between the sensations. He makes it easy, sliding his hand to the base when Jesse rises from his cock, pulling upwards when he sinks down.

It drags the most beautiful sounds from his lover’s throat. Hanzo wants to commit them to memory, hear them every night for the rest of his life.

“You’re too--I’m not gonna--”

“Let go, Jesse.” Hanzo coos, pressing his thumb harshly into the leaking slit. “Let go.”

Jesse doubles over, shaking and shuddering, hands loose where they grip onto the sides of Hanzo’s face. His movements are erratic, chasing the peak, and Hanzo finds himself lost in the carnal rhythm of it all. 

He needs so little to come right now, dangling over the edge just as Jesse is.

“I love you,” Jesse sobs as he starts to come, pressing slack-mouthed kisses to wherever his mouth falls on Hanzo’s face. “I love you so, so goddamn much, Hanzo, I--”

Hanzo closes his eyes as he’s swept under the tide, shaking and grasping at Jesse, gasping back his own declarations of love as best he can. His words are muddled, a mix of Japanese and English, which only seems to drag out Jesse’s pleasure. They collapse together, Jesse’s head heavy on his shoulder, Hanzo’s stomach aching slightly from the frantic nature of their movements. He presses a soft kiss to Jesse’s temple, letting Jesse’s cock fall from his hands as he stirs a hand through the water to get rid of the murky bit.

“I made a mess,” Jesse groans into his skin, still shivering, sinking lower into the water at the renewed chill against his shoulders. “M’sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m sure I’ve made a mess too.” Hanzo grins, catches the very tip of Jesse’s ear in a soft nip. “Luckily for you, I’m adept at cleaning up the messes I make. I can’t imagine how good you’ll taste.”

Jesse shivers for a different reason now, arms wrapped tight around Hanzo’s shoulders, his cheek warm when it presses into Hanzo’s skin on the turn of his head.

“Now who’s the insatiable one?”

“Dragon’s are known for the trait.” Hanzo murmurs, grinning at Jesse’s annoyed huff. “Marry me?”

“Y’can’t ask a man that when you’ve fucked his brains out, Hanzo.” Jesse complains, before leaning forward and kissing him gently. “Yeah. Of course. Y’asked me to stay, after all. Might as well make it official.”

“Amelie will be over the moon with victory,” Hanzo comments idly, gently twisting his hands through Jesse’s hair.

“Well...ain’t nobody sayin’ it’s gotta be some big event, y’know?”

“You’re not wrong,” Hanzo looks up at the sky, at the fat moon above them, the twinkling of stars like jewels. “But we’d be fools to deny her the chance to gloat.”

“Well...I been a fool before. Worked out pretty well for me, all things considered.”

Hanzo quietly thinks that _he_ was the fool before, to take so long to realize what Jesse meant to him, to take so long to _tell_ Jesse how important he was. 

But then again, as it’s all ended in his favor, it would seem even fools are rewarded when the gods smile kindly on them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the continued support and love! When I wrote this one shot, I had no idea it would become this massive thing--or that it would be so well received! Thank you guys so much for sticking with me through the break I took during a terrible writer's block and I sincerely hope you've enjoyed this <3


End file.
